


HUNGRY HEART

by stxrmborn



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse
Genre: Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Antichrist, Apocalypse, Bottom Michael, Eventual Smut, F/M, False Prophet, Graphic Description, I hope lol, LMAOOO YES ACTUALLY THIS IS SO BOTTOM MICHAEL, Original Character(s), Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Smut, The Unholy Trinity - Freeform, True Love, about 4 chapters worth lmao i kinda went overboard with the smut once you get to it, fast burn, goes from michael right before hawthorne to outpost michael, originally posted on wattpad and i'll really TRY to put it all on here, we goin AU with that season finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-14 01:28:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 34
Words: 96,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17499053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stxrmborn/pseuds/stxrmborn
Summary: Coraline Avery really wanted to be okay again. A once spring fling queen and crowned most popular girl in school, Coraline's social ranking came crashing down after her supposed "schizophrenic episode" in the middle of a final exam last year. The doctors said that it could've been from emotional build up after her wealthy father left her mother with nothing but the house. But Coraline knew what she saw; she knew she wasn't schizophrenic when she saw a vision of one of her classmates crashing into a guardrail on a multi-lane highway.The visions continued throughout the summer, once every two months. The medication didn't do shit, and Coraline kept telling herself that this was normal; this was her life now.She was determined to make senior year her bitch. Despite being cast down by most of her former clique, she had the members of boardgame club to back her up. Coraline was ready to resume her ranking yet again at prom this year, if everything went according to plan.Coraline Avery wasn't crazy. But when a new boy moves down the street and promises that her visions make her a prophet, mingling with the antichrist is suddenly much more important than boardgame club and prom ever were.





	1. DRAB

#### ACT I: YOUNGBLOODS

##### CHAPTER ONE

#####  **__________________________**

**CORALINE**  remembered her first vision like it was yesterday.

A major headache emerged between her temples as she took her Chemistry final exam. She had a constant throbbing in her head throughout the morning, but she assumed it was her own punishment for partying so late night. There had been a wild blow out down by the river, and just about anyone who was  _anyone_  was invited. Coraline wasn't just anyone; she was a  _someone —_ so of course, she had to go. As soon as she got home, she studied for the rest of the night, hardly getting a wink of sleep. Once this exam was over, she planned to go home and sleep, just so this headache would be over.

But the throbbing only got worse. Coraline tapped her pencil against the paper, going over the problem in front of her. It was about Avogadro's Law. She  _knew_  how to solve this, but the constant throbbing forced her memory to go blank.

_A 10.0 L sample at 25°C and 2.00 atm of pressure contains 0.5 mole of a gas. If an additional 0.25 mole of gas at the same pressure and temperature are added, what is the final total volume of the gas?_

She just had to use the formula. Shaking her leg, anxiety began to run through her body like a river. Coraline touched the tip of her pencil on the paper, ready to write down the formula, when her hand began to vibrate. She looked to the pencil, but her vision was suddenly blurry. Turning her head to her teacher at the front of the room, she realized that she could hardly see Mr. York as he flipped through the school paper. Coraline pursed her lips and wondered if anyone noticed her shaking. None of them paid any attention.

And then she snapped the pencil in her hand.

A few heads turned her way. Her friend and study partner, Amalia Beaumont, scooted her chair over to the girl at the other end of the lab desk. Amalia glanced to their teacher, who hadn't moved an inch, and then viewed back to Coraline trembling in her seat. She was fumbling with the broken pencil and tapped the desk in multiple places to find another, as if she was suddenly blind.

"Hey," Amalia whispered, despite other students watching the exchange. "Are you okay?"

Coraline moved her head in the direction of Amalia's voice, but she suddenly couldn't see a thing. Darkness clouded her vision. She reached out and grabbed Amalia's cheek, mumbling, "I – I can't –"

"Miss Avery," their teacher finally stood. He threw the newspaper onto desk and put on a fresh coat of hand sanitizer, preparing to walk over and confiscate Coraline's test. "There will be  _no cheating_ in this class –"

Coraline's body flew off the seat, as if it were being controlled by another force of nature. Everyone in the room stood and gasps filled the air. Amalia screamed bloody murder as Mr. York ran to Coraline's side. She vibrated on the floor, trying to hack up something that didn't exist in her throat. Her mouth was dry. Blackness covered her eyes. Her mind was awake, but her body was ... somewhere else. She tried reaching out to grab something, but ended up clutching onto Amalia's ankle, who shrieked yet again and wiggled herself out of Coraline's weak grasp.

A bright light appeared before her eyes, and Coraline was sure that she was now dying. Of course, it  _had_  to be now, in the middle of a final exam. She'd be forever seventeen; forever a spring fling queen. At least, she'd be pretty when they put her in the casket.

But then everything came in flashes. She was suddenly on the sidelines of a multi-lane roadway, cars passing by her like she were a ghost. A chill wind ran through the air and caused her to shiver. Trees swayed from side to side. The moon ventured higher into the night sky.  _Is this what hell looks like?_  She asked herself, turning her head in multiple directions.

A familiar red Volvo started speeding down the highway. Coraline recognized Cierra Vega in the front seat, applying a stain of pink lipstick to her mouth. Cars behind her began to honk their horns as she slowed her speed. Some even started to cut her off from the side. Cierra scowled in her rearview mirror and continued putting on the lipstick. Coraline would've expected more from the smartest girl in school.

When she couldn't take the honking anymore, Coraline watched Cierra roll her eyes and speed up, right past her on the side of the road. Cierra then began to merge into another lane when another car was trying to pass her. But everything was too fast. She was going to –

Coraline knew what was going to happen. Out of instinct, she sprinted for Cierra's car, as if that would do anything. " _Cierra_!" She shrieked, stomping into the wet mud beneath her feet.

It was already too late. As soon as the words left her lips, Cierra's car swerved to the side and tore through a guardrail. A scream echoed in the air as the car rolled down the side hill, until it finally crashed into a large tree. Then it was silent. Everything was  _silent_.

Coraline's breath was uneven as she stared at the idle car before her. She dared to whisper Cierra's name, but she couldn't talk anymore. Darkness overcame her sight again, yet Coraline still jogged forward. She was running away blind, desperate to help Cierra, but silence reverberated around the darkness, and suddenly, all she could hear was her own ears ringing.

She couldn't prevent the future anymore.

#####  **__________________________**

Conveniently, the first vision came six months after Coraline's father left them. The doctors said that she had a schizophrenic break, probably from emotional build up after Jacob Avery's exit. Her mother, Francesca, ate it all up with a spoon, making sure the hospital staff referred her to the best professionals in Los Angeles to take her daughter to. Francesca wasn't going to let this  _disorder_ take over Coraline. Their family's reputation had already been ruined after her husband's affair became public and it was discovered that she now had to work as a receptionist in a Holiday Inn. This wasn't going to happen again; not on her watch.

But it  _did_  happen again. News spread across the school of Coraline's mental breakdown, labeling her now as the friendly, neighborhood freak. Her friends now called her a psycho behind her back. Everyone who wanted to be her ... now looked  _down_  on her. Reputation: gone. Class ranking: gone. All in the blink of an eye. Coraline Avery wasn't a  _someone_ anymore.

The visions happened randomly, but mostly occurred once every two months. Subjects varied, but many revolved around death, or a story she'd soon see on the news. She tried explaining them to her mother once, telling Francesca that this was what was  _normal_ now, and the visions were secrets to the future. She didn't need doctors or medication or therapist visits. What she needed was for her mother to believe her. Francesca only shook her head and ran a hand over her stressed lids. "I don't want to hear it," she told her daughter. "Please, just take the medication, Cora. For me.  _Please_."

She still took the medication. It didn't do anything, and her mother knew that she was paying for it for no reason. But Francesca was living in denial, and she'd like to keep it that way. Sometimes, she'd even pretend her wealthy husband was still in the house, waiting for her to come to bed after a long day at work. Handling his exit – where he left her with only the house – was tough enough. The last thing she needed was to formally acknowledge that her daughter now received visions of the future.

#####  **__________________________**

It was now three weeks into Coraline's senior year, and things hadn't gotten any easier. She almost dodged a bullet within the third day, when she had to run to the girl's bathroom as a vision took over her sight. Luckily, it only lasted a minute, but what she saw lasted so much longer. She tried to block it out, as she did with most visions, but Coraline distinctly remembered witnessing a flood spread out through an entire town. Days later, they reported on the news of a local flooding that hit record levels and destroyed the next town over.

People now stared at Coraline, but not like how they used to. Coraline remembered how empowered she felt walking down the halls every morning. Girls would compliment her outfit, telling her how she would always be best-dressed. Boys would stare, wishing they had a date with her that night. She had been  _wanted_. She had been  _desired_.

Now they looked at her for what she really was: a psycho, a schizophrenic freak.

An arm locked around her shoulders, causing Coraline to jump. It was only Eloise Tran, a poker connoisseur that had welcomed Coraline into her friend group when no one else had. Coraline had grown close with her throughout the summer, even joining her board game club that met every Tuesday and Wednesday afternoon. Coraline never took board games seriously – I mean, who  _did_? – but this club was serious business, at least to Eloise's friends, Billy Dhar and Greg Romano.

"Hey there, Cor," Eloise giggled at scaring her friend. She covered her mouth delicately with a manicured hand. "What'cha up to?"

Coraline sucked in a heavy breath as she looked to her former friends huddled together at the end of the hallway. They were all laughing – not at her, just ... at something funny she wanted to be included in. Amalia Beaumont turned her head, catching Coraline's stare, and she smiled sadly at her. Coraline didn't need pity.

"Oh, you know," she finally answered, glancing to Eloise as they sauntered together, "just trying not to kill myself before noon. I guess the rumors about my multiple psychologist appointments really got to the whole student body throughout the summer."

Eloise frowned, pity covering her expression. Coraline never minded her pity; she valued Eloise too much to hate her for it. The black-haired girl reached out and patted Coraline's shoulder. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "But, hey! Maybe I know what will make you feel better." She stuck her hands into the pockets of her hand-me-down overalls, which she paired with a stripped tee and red Converse.

"If it's the surprise meal that will be at lunch today," Coraline replied, "then I'll pass. Whenever they list a surprise meal for lunch in the cafeteria, its always their off-brand stir fry, frequently with deep-fried mold."

Eloise snorted, hitting her friend's shoulder. They passed by Amalia and her friends, and before Coraline could stop her, Eloise sent a glare in the popular kids' direction. She then looked back to Coraline, who hardly noticed the exchange, and smiled. "Are you coming to board game club today? Greg got the new edition of  _Clue_!"

Coraline gripped the straps of her backpack and lifted a brow. "He told us last time that that was coming out for another year. How'd he –"

"You know his connections," Eloise muttered under her breath. "We don't  _really_ know anything about his dad. Bill thinks he could be a mob boss."

Coraline shook her head. "Just because Greg is Italian, doesn't mean –" She paused and laughed softly. "Never mind. I can't go anyways. My mom wants me home as soon as we get out of this hell hole to prepare dinner. She's working late tonight."

Eloise sighed as they approached Coraline's homeroom. "Well, okay. See you at lunch?" Her friend nodded in agreement.

And that's how days went now. No longer exciting, reveling in the new gossip lingering around the school's brick walls. No more sitting in the back of the cafeteria. No more invitations to parties or hang outs. It was mainly just Coraline – alone; silent in most classes, until she saw Eloise, Greg, and Billy. Loneliness seemed to hover around her like a rain cloud, waiting to strike throughout the majority of the day.

She needed a hobby. Maybe she should go with her calling and work as a psychic that sits on the side of the road, begging onlookers to get a reading. That would definitely help with the rumors that she was psychotic.  _Definitely_.

#####  **__________________________**

The only good thing about school starting was the changing of weather. Despite global warming wrecking most of the world, California sometimes remained a comfortable autumn state. Not all the time, but  _sometimes_. Humidity still leaked in the air, yet the leaves were falling at a slow pace. Coraline noticed shades of orange, yellow, and red dotting the pavement as she walked home that afternoon. She dreamed of a day that they could have a real autumn, one where it was cold, but not  _too cold_ , with pumpkins littering the ground instead of discarded waste.

Her house was huge, and sometimes Coraline was thankful that her father decided to leave them with it fully paid-off, rather than anything else. The scale of the home assured her that in some way, some how, she was still a  _somebody_  to this godforsaken town. However, she knew someday it would be too much for them to keep up.

It was a four-bedroom, three-bathroom brick house, accompanied by a dark, polished grand door and a front yard that stretched for miles. Two stone lions marked the entryway, as well as a tall, pillared fence to keep out onlookers. (That was especially useful after Coraline's incident. The local news had been  _all_ overher.) It was the largest home on the entire street. Jacob Avery had the house built for Francesca after they were married, as a way to persuade her to have children. Now look how that turned out.

As Coraline neared the brick home, she heard a couple doors slam in the distance. She didn't assume people would be outside, considering that she lived around all elderly folks who rarely moved from one spot. A U-Haul truck was parked right outside an older-looking home, just a few yards down from her own. Coraline never noticed the brown-shingled house before, but, frankly, she never really had to. It was drab looking; an unnoticeable speck in the multitude of pretty cottages on the street.

She couldn't stop herself from staring, though. An odd atmosphere surrounded the house, as if Coraline could  _feel_  the history behind it. She wondered how many ghosts lived in there.

Two people emerged from the home, one holding open the door for the other. A stout, round woman with short black hair strode over to the U-Haul, tugging open the latch. The person who had held the door for her – a boy, around Coraline's age, with honey-colored hair and bright blue eyes – rushed forward, exclaiming, "Let me do it! Let me do it!"

Coraline crossed the road then, heading for the side her own house was on, but her stare lingered on the new neighbors. The house was pretty tall, yet small. Why did they only have one U-Haul? Surely, they must have more stuff to put inside.  _Ha_ , Coraline thought to herself,  _unless they're on the run from something_. She almost hoped that was the case. Maybe then she wouldn't be the only thing this tiny L.A. town talked about anymore.

When she was about to look away, the boy's eyes flickered to her own, as if he sensed her judgmental gaze. His expression was menacing, but also trustful, like Coraline wouldn't mind spilling all her secrets to the boy who looked like he slept on the sun. The woman beside him was mumbling to herself, but he kept his stare on Coraline, who almost walked into a poll from not watching her own feet.

Eventually, when his darkened gaze became too much of a challenge, Coraline released a  _humph_ and turned away, not thinking much of it. She would've never realized that the boy was still watching her, calculating her movements and the way she walked over each crack in the sidewalk. He watched her walked up the front steps to the big house three down from his, stick her key in the lock, and close the big, wooden door. A grin graced his lips, but no words were said.

Maybe things would've turned out different if Coraline Avery never laid eyes on the new neighbors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Hungry Heart!!! This is a Michael Langdon fanfic originally posted on my Wattpad account (@stxrmborn), that I've been meaning to publish here for a while. This fanfic is very near and dear to my heart, and writing it really helped me through a lot of stress going on in my life last year. Coraline and Michael's relationship holds a special place in my heart, and I hope you like them as much as I do!
> 
> Important thing to note: this story contains religious themes and titles that I try to depict as accurately as I can, but this is all still a work of fiction and not meant to offend. The ending of this story will differ completely from canon ending of Season 8 too!
> 
> If you also would like to read this on Wattpad, here's the link: https://www.wattpad.com/story/164512423-hungry-heart-michael-langdon (There is also a playlist and graphic gallery there, if you're interested!)
> 
> Also, this fanfic features a few characters created by my friend, @luciangemini, from Wattpad. They are Amalia Beaumont, Heather Beaumont, and Nate Ashworth, and all rights to these characters go to @luciangemini!


	2. HAIL SATAN

#### ACT I: YOUNGBLOODS

##### CHAPTER TWO

#####  **__________________________**

**WEIRDLY**  enough, Greg Romano  _had_ actually gotten the new version of  _Clue: Freak Show_. When the board game club met the next day, Greg whipped the big box out of a plastic bag, like it was some sort of ancient relic in an  _Indiana Jones_ movie. "This is just a prototype, because it doesn't come out until next year," he explained with a proud smile. "My dad was able to get it for us."

Eloise shared a knowing look with Coraline, remembering the conversation they had yesterday, and Coraline chuckled softly at the inside joke. The club met after school in the abandoned teacher's lounge that no one knew about. It was located in the old portion of the school, consisting of leaky ceiling and broken tiles. The board game club decided to meet here so they could keep out of the school's radar. Once the faculty knew about them, they'd have to pay a club fee, and Billy said he'd be damned if he ever had to pay money to organize  _a club_.

An hour later, they were still in the first round. "This game is  _too long_ ," Billy complained after rolling the dice. "Whoever your dad has connections to, tell them that this freak show sucks."

Greg scoffed. "Just be grateful I even got it! I'm sick of replaying  _Uno_ , or your favorite –  _Candy Land_."

" _Candy Land_  is good," Billy muttered under his breath and tugged his hood over his dark hair. He tossed the dice across the circular table to Coraline. "Your turn, Cor."

Coraline nodded and shook the dice in her fist before rolling. It landed on three. As she reached out for her character piece, Eloise commented, "You're quiet today, Cor. What's going on?"

She shrugged, moving her piece into the freak show's grand ballroom. "I don't know. I saw the flyers for the Winter Ball before coming here today, and I think I'm stressing over it."

"Why?" Billy snorted, scrunching up his long, caramel-colored nose. "Are you  _actually_ gonna go? I thought that wasn't your thing anymore."

Coraline's mouth dropped. "Are you  _kidding_? I have to go! I've gone to every school dance since middle school, and a new psychotic reputation isn't going to stop me."

"Sounds dumb," Greg mumbled and ruffled his brown mop of curls. He tapped a pencil against the table, thinking of a suspect for his notes.

"Well, that's just your  _dumb opinion_ ," she snickered, malice laced in her tone. Crossing her arms over her chest, she continued, "Attending the Winter Ball might help get the rumors off my back. You know, like, up my social status again. Maybe then I'll have an edge to win prom queen later this year."

Billy rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, Cor. Just make sure you leave a note when you break up with us losers."

"That  _isn't_  what I –" She sighed, waving her manicured hands in the air. "Never mind. I'll change the subject." She leaned back in her seat and met Eloise's worried stare. The black-haired girl sent her a candy-sweet smile, and Coraline glanced back to the boys. "There's a new family in town."

"We know," Billy grinned big. " _Everyone_  knows."

Greg nodded, "News travels fast in a small town."

"Huh," Coraline cocked a brow upward. "They live on my street. A couple houses down. Its just this middle-aged woman and – I'm guessing – her son? The guy looks our age." She then cast her eyes down, shifting through the playing cards in her hands, and released a snort. "Maybe we should invite him to our club."

"I heard he's homeschooled," Eloise added, rolling the dice across the table. "Thomas Quaily was saying in my Trig class that they're a bunch of Satanists. The mom – who doesn't even  _look_ like she could be related to her son – was hanging around the church on a Sunday morning, trying to convert the crowd."

Greg scowled and watched Eloise knock his character piece out of the way. "Its probably best that he's homeschooled. The cliques here would eat him for breakfast."

Coraline remembered his face again. All sharp features and flecks of darkness in those too-blue eyes. Golden hair whipping in the wind. High cheekbones and straight nose, with a few freckles dotting his skin. He looked seventeen, but had the features of a full grown adult. Remembering his stare caused a shiver to crawl down Coraline's spine. She doubted if he'd let anyone eat him alive.

"Why does it matter if he's a Satanist?" Coraline finally asked, eyeing a specific card in her deck.

The table went silent. Coraline hadn't noticed that nobody moved until a minute later. She looked up, meeting her friends' stares. Was the question really  _that_  shocking? Since she became the friendly, neighborhood psycho, Coraline suddenly became interested in all things weird and wonderful. She didn't know her new neighbors, but they seemed to fit the bill on her interests. She didn't exactly want to judge them either. Her, out of all people, knew what that felt like.

"What?" She asked incredulously.

Billy set down his card hand and knitted his bushy brows together. "Did you  _really_ just ask why it mattered if your new neighbor was a Satanist?"

Coraline's eyes darted to each of them. "I don't understand what the big deal is if they're not harming anybody."

"They're Satanists!" Greg exclaimed. He slapped his hands down on the table, causing a few character pieces to topple over. "They worship Satan! That isn't a  _problem_  to you?"

Coraline shrugged, which made Greg's eyes narrow. Eloise put out a hand to calm down her friends. "Now, guys. There's no reason to get worked up over this. Its just her opinion –"

"Listen, Cor," Greg continued, interrupting Eloise's defense and making her sigh in defeat. He pointed a stern finger towards Coraline, who frowned sarcastically at him. "I know that you've suddenly tried to accept people more since you became –  _well_ – a freak like us, but this ... I can't get behind it."

Coraline set down her deck and released a huff. "Can I make the unanimous decision for us to end this conversation?  _Okay_? Done. Over." She picked up the dice that had casually rolled to the middle of the board and threw it to Billy. "Your turn, Dahr. Roll it."

#####  **__________________________**

Despite enjoying her autumn walks home, Coraline knew it was going to be hell once the sweltering weather came. She really wished she had a car to drive, but neither her or Francesca could afford it with the grocery and electricity bills each month. Sometimes, Coraline thought it would just be easier to move out of the big house she held so dear, but she knew her mother would never allow it. "This house ... This house is important, Coraline," she would say, hurt laced in her tone. "How could you  _ever_ suggest we move out?!"

The house was the last thing her mother had to wealthy reputation. She'd do  _anything_ to keep it. They were both selfish in that way.

Coraline's black boots clicked against the sidewalk, creating a soft rhythm as she tapped along to the song playing through her headphones. Popping a bubble from the gum in her mouth, she bobbed her head to the new Taylor Swift album,  _Reputation_ , and found the name fitting to the particular situation she was in now. She had never been much of a Swiftie fan, but something about a woman owning up to being a snake was so thrilling to her.

Suddenly, Coraline found herself stopping in her tracks at the sight ahead. Her new neighbors were outside, enjoying the beautiful fall day. The stout, dark-haired woman sat on a small deck lining the front of their house. As Coraline slowly neared the house, she took out her headphones and noticed that the woman was blasting Fleetwood Mac from an old speaker beside her. A magazine rested in her wrinkled hands, but she was holding it upside down. Her son – or  _whatever_  he was – tore a brand new rake through the leaves scattered across the front yard. His technique was odd, and she wondered if he was just too lazy to rake or he simply didn't know how to do it, almost like a child.

_They worship Satan!_  Greg's voice echoed in her head.  _That isn't a_ problem _to you?_

Coraline wrinkled her nose at Greg's words from the day before. Maybe he was right; maybe it was a problem. And maybe she  _had_ begun to accept people more than she hadn't before, but Coraline's goals were to be a better person ... and become popular again. Simple. Easy. Totally not selfish. This was just another step in doing that.

Instead of crossing the road to get to her house, Coraline continued walking closer to the new neighbors. Soon enough, she was in front of their house, tapping her feet against the pavement and popping a bubble. The blonde boy looked up, hardly moving a muscle as he laid his eyes on Coraline.

"Hi, neighbor," she greeted, nodding her chin in his direction. From the corner of her eye, she noticed the older woman view up from her magazine and stare through a pair of sunglasses. Coraline smiled awkwardly. "I live right down there. In the –"

"In the big, brick house," he answered.

Coraline cocked her head to the side, nodding slowly. "Um – yeah," she clicked her tongue. "So what's your name? I haven't seen you around the high school. What are you – like, sixteen? Seventeen?"

The boy twisted around to glance at his caretaker, who scrunched up her mouth and looked away. He finally turned back to meet Coraline's curious expression. "Eighteen," he replied, dropping the rake onto the grass nonchalantly. Coraline almost backed away when he stalked forward, excitement dancing in his eyes, like a child on Christmas morning. He smiled cheekily. "My name is Michael Langdon. Miriam teaches me from the house so I don't have to go to public school."

_So everything they said_ was  _true_ , Coraline thought to herself.  _But who is Miriam? His mom? That woman on the deck?_ She could only assume so.

Coraline played with the straps of her orange backpack, chuckling softly. "Lucky you," she hummed as silence filled the air. Michael continued to stare at her with a mix of wonder and enthusiasm. Maybe it was a good thing that he was homeschooled. For an eighteen-year-old boy, he had the attitude of a pubescent teenager. He probably just ... wanted to make a friend. She couldn't blame him. In fact, his weird personality kind of drew her in. Greg was  _so_ wrong.

"I'm Coraline Avery," she introduced, pulling her small, pink lips into a grin. "You can call me Cor, or Cora, if you want to. I imagine we'll be seeing each other around."

" _Coraline_ ," Michael mused, taking one step closer. He smirked then. "I prefer full names. Coraline it is."

Coraline's brow shot up. "Alright then," she chuckled, backing away to cross the street. "I guess I'll see you later, Michael." She waved, looking over her shoulder as she walked to the other side of the road.

Michael raised his hand, contemplating a movement, before he finally waved back. Miriam scoffed from the porch, setting down the magazine in her lap. "Michael!" She called loudly. "If you want your favorite desert later, then finish ..."

They were already out of ear-shot when Coraline reached her home. Her mother's car was parked in the driveway: an old, cherry-red Chevrolet Camaro her husband had bought her for an early anniversary present years ago. The hotel must've let her out early today. Coraline unlocked the front door, ready to call out her mother's name as she hung her house keys on the rack next to the door. Before she could utter a word, she found her mother waiting by the window in the living room, peering through the sheer, purple curtains. She was still wearing her uniform, but her hair hung down in loose, brown waves.

Francesca Avery could be such a nosy busy-body sometimes. Back when she didn't work and her husband provided everything, that's all she would do. Attend wine socials and discuss the latest town gossip with other housewives. Coraline hoped that mentality would've stopped once her mother became consumed by her job, but ... looks like she was wrong on that one.

"What are you doing?!" She whispered loudly, as if whoever she was spying on could hear them. Shoving her mom to the side a bit, Coraline realized she had been watching Michael and Miriam. She frowned towards her mother.

Francesca chewed her bottom lip, eyes narrowing at the strangers. "Are  _those_  new neighbors?" She shook her head. "I  _told_  Jacob that he should've had this place built in a better neighborhood."

"Do you seriously have nothing better to do with your time?" Coraline scoffed, shutting the curtain in front of her.

Francesca rolled her eyes and kept her hand right where it was, holding the curtain open. "I saw you talking to the blonde kid." She turned again, peering across the street at Michael. "I don't like him. I'm getting bad juju vibes. I heard they're –"

"Satanists. Yes, mom, we all know," Coraline sighed. Her mother still hadn't moved from her spying spot. Coraline released a loud groan and spun on her heel to head to her room. " _God_ , can you  _stop_?!"

Francesca snarled around her breath. Narrowing her eyes towards the new neighbors, she wished she hadn't used such a joking tone when talking about the bad vibes they gave her, because she was actually being  _serious_. Francesca was never one to fully believe town gossip, but ... something was different about these guys. Maybe she was just overthinking.

The boy's eyes suddenly looked up at her, meeting her stare from across the street. Francesca closed the curtain immediately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that this story can be considered a fast burn!!! You'll start to see that the relationship/relationship between Coraline and Michael moves quickly at first because that's how Michael is: he's always in a hurry to get somewhere. (I'm pretty sure Constance said something like that, along those lines.) He does everything fast because that's his normal pace, and that's why their relationship/friendship will be moving pretty rapidly, as opposed to like a normal relationship!


	3. STRAIGHT UP GOD

#### ACT I: YOUNGBLOODS

##### CHAPTER THREE

#####  **__________________________**

**"YOU'VE**   _got_ to be kidding me, mom."

Francesca Avery turned to her daughter standing in the doorway of the kitchen. Various baking supplies were spread out across the large island, from baking soda to semi-sweet chocolate morsels. She pulled out two baking sheets out the oven, licking melted chocolate from the cookies off her fingers. Shaking her head at her daughter, Francesca took out one of her best serving plates and began to place cookies on it, burning her long fingers in the process. Coraline assumed her mother was about to leave for work because she was wearing her uniform and trying her  _hardest_ not to get it dirty.

"This what we have to do to ..." Francesca waved her hands around, coming up with words that would make sense. "To stay in their good graces."

Coraline lifted a brow. " _Who_? The new neighbors?"

Her mother chewed on her bottom lip and looked away, continuing to pile on cookies.

" _God_ , mom. Can't you just leave them alone? Maybe  _that_  will help us stay in their good graces."

"You see? That's what they need, Cor:  _God_. Straight up  _God_." She wagged her finger in her daughter's face.

Coraline walked more into the kitchen and pushed her mother's finger away. She sighed heavily, "You've never cared about religion – like,  _ever_. Why start now?"

" _Because_ ," Francesca replied, placing plastic wrap on top of the cookie plate. "Because I'll be damned if the way I die is by some Satanists down the street sacrificing me to Lucifer. No way, Jose."

The teenager rolled her eyes, crossing her arms across her chest. "Don't you have work soon? How do you planning on bringing those over?"

Her mother smiled big. "That's where you come in, sweet daughter." She reached out and pinched Coraline's cheeks, making them turn rosy red. " _I'm_  going to go to work – so I can successfully feed and keep us warm each week – and  _you_ are going to win over these new Satanists by taking this plate of my homemade cookies to them."

Coraline's eyes shifted to the cookies sitting in a circle on her mother's gold-lined plate. Glancing back to Francesca, she snarled, "Are you sure those aren't just some store-bought cookies that you heated for dramatic effect?"

Francesca narrowed her eyes and smirked. "Positive," she muttered, shaking her daughter's chin before clicking her heels out of the kitchen.

Coraline followed her mother out into the main foyer, ready to scream for making her do her dirty work. But the front door was already closing, and her mother was wiggling her fingers goodbye. "You can't just leave me with this!" Coraline called, stomping her foot into the cream-colored carpet.

"Yes, I can!" Francesca's sing-song voice rang out as the door shut completely.

Coraline heard the revving of an engine outside, and then silence. She released a low groan, tilting her head up to the ceiling in agony. "I can't believe she's making me fucking do this," Coraline muttered to herself, grabbing the expensive plate of cookies. She sniffed some of the extras still laying on the warm baking sheet. Glancing around, she popped a whole chocolate chip cookie in her mouth before exiting the house.

She felt like a fool walking over to this goddamn two-floor home. She  _really_ hated doing her mom's dirty work, especially because Francesca was  _so_  afraid of some Satanists. Coraline wondered if she was also scared of her supposed "schizophrenic daughter" too. God knows everyone else in town was.

She felt like someone was watching her as she ascended the front steps of the porch. Coraline wondered if they did creepy rituals out here. The thought made her chuckle as she wrapped her fist on the old door. She blew out an annoyed sigh. It was a Friday evening and she was spending it doing  _this_. Coraline remembered a time when Friday nights were spent in the woods, drinking shitty Four Lokos with her friends.

It didn't take long for the door to open, revealing a disheveled Michael Langdon waiting on the other side. He was in his normal attire: black tank and ripped, black jeans. She wondered if he ever got sweaty for wearing black all the time.

"Coraline Avery," he greeted eloquently, but with a childish smile. "I've seen you walk home alone the last couple days, and you haven't said a word. You can't tell me that we scared you away." He laughed softly.

Coraline flashed a wide grin, full of fakeness and sarcasm. "Not quite, Michael Langdon," she muttered. "You see, most of these people keep away from you because they're scared, but  _me_  ... I'm just busy." That was a total lie. She just didn't feel like talking to the weird boy, purely out of laziness and zero interest.

"So what brings you here now?"

Coraline exhaled heavily through her nostrils and shoved her hands forward, knocking the plate into Michael's chest. "My mom,  _apparently_ , doesn't want you guys to kill her, so her best idea to prevent that was to send you guys a plate of cookies."

"What an  _awesome_ peace offering," he replied, tugging off some of the plastic wrap and smelling the dessert. "How'd she know chocolate chip was my favorite?"

"Isn't it everyone's?" Coraline raised a brow.

Michael shook his head. "Not exactly," he smirked, biting down on one of the warm cookies. His playful demeanor came to a sudden halt, and a serious expression covered his face. The shift happened within seconds. Coraline wondered if she just experienced whiplash. "Do you want to talk in my room?"

Coraline leaned her head forward, peering inside the dark hallway. His supposed mother, Miriam, was nowhere in sight. She glanced back to Michael and wrinkled her nose. "We don't know each other that well."

His hand whipped out to shove the front door wider open. Coraline's eyes went wide. "Maybe we can get to know each other."

Most people in this situation would fear that they were being invited to their own murder, but Coraline's mind went in a totally different direction.

"Hey," she said, putting her hands up, "if you're planning to hook up, I've stopped doing that."

Michael's head cocked to the side.

Coraline laughed to herself, "No one really wants to hook up with a labeled psycho."

Silence. He only stared at her, curiosity dancing in his  _abnormally_  blue eyes, until a smile finally cracked across his mouth.

"I like psychos. They're cool." He shrugged, biting on his bottom lip. Confusion covered his features. "I don't really know what hooking up is, anyways."

Coraline knitted her brow. Her mouth slightly opened, but she didn't say a word. He was  _eighteen_ and didn't know what hooking up was? Has he ever had actual human contact with someone other than Miriam? She didn't really want to know the answers.

"Um ..." She pursed her lips. "Sure, I'll come in. As long as you give me one of those cookies."

Michael grinned big and instantly handed her one. Coraline held the cookie delicately in her hands and took a large bite, stepping one foot inside. The house was so ...  _dark_. Hardly any lights in the entire first floor, besides a few lamps and candles scattered in the hallway. There was a large fireplace in the living room, which was to the left of the front hall. A large portrait of some monstrous-looking creature hung above it, scowling in the direction of the viewer with its bright red eyes.

She felt slightly terrified, but that only made her exhilarated. It reminded her of the times she could successfully sneak out to party with her friends.

Michael led her through the living room and into the kitchen, where he left the plate of cookies on the small, fold-up dining table. Coraline ate the rest of her cookie in one bite. Her eyes floated around the room, ogling the multiple Satanic symbols covering the walls. She swallowed hard.  _Not scary_ , she told herself.  _Just ... different._

"Follow me," Michael said, shaking Coraline out of her trance. He circled around the kitchen for a moment, as if he was playing a game, before leading her to the staircase in the middle of the front hallway. Coraline's feet creaked on each step, and she wondered if the stairs were so old that she could  _literally_ fall through.

She didn't know she was sweating until he escorted her to the second floor and into his room. Perspiration formed beneath her armpits in her jean jacket, and even on the top of her forehead. She wiped it away and noticed just how  _sweltering hot_ it was in this house.

Michael stood by the door once he let her inside his bedroom. Coraline noticed he had carved words into his wooden door as she plopped herself on the mattress. Black sheets and comforter. What a surprise.

"You do know its, like, sixty degrees outside." She said, tugging off her jacket and placing it on her lap. "You should probably put a fan in this room, unless you want to sweat to death."

He bounced on his heels, still standing by the door. "I like the warmth."

Coraline nodded slowly. The tension in the room was so awkward, and she slightly regretted accepting his offer. A rational person would want to leave as soon as they saw the Satanic posters and imagery covering his bedroom walls. However, Coraline Avery wanted to leave because she was  _bored_.

"You can come sit over here, you know," she bluntly stated, motioning for him to come forward.

Michael's head perked up, and he looked out the door for a moment, before walking forward. He sat down beside Coraline, a little  _too_  close for comfort. His legs were so long that his feet slapped against the floor immediately, but he began to wiggle them as if they were dangling over the edge. Coraline watched him with confusion.

"So," she exhaled, lacing her hands together, "where's your mom?"

"My mom?"

Coraline pointed to the polaroid photo he had of him and Miriam that sat crookedly on his bedside table.

"Oh," he said, allowing his whole torso to fall onto the mattress. Crossing his arms in back of his head, Michael smiled. "That's Miriam. She just takes care of me."

"At  _eighteen_?" Coraline asked, and he nodded excitedly in response. She then moved her legs up on the bed and curled them in a criss-cross way. "So ... she's  _not_  your mom."

Michael paused for a moment, mouth forming in a hard line. "No. My family doesn't speak to me either, because of ... stuff."

 _Stuff_ , Coraline thought.  _Very informative_.

She decided that the family subject was over, due to the light disappearing from his eyes. His expression was blank: perplexed, yet angry. Coraline bit the inside of her cheek, running a hand through her hair as she thought of an appropriate response.

"If it makes you feel better, my dad left us."

Michael's head spun in her direction, brows knitting together.

"Us being my mom and I," she clarified. Coraline looked to the spackled ceiling, frowning at the memory of waking up on a beautiful, Sunday morning to find her father not there. "He ... I don't know. My dad was a wealthy business man — investing in stocks, always striving for  _the best_ , you know? I can only guess that he fell in love with another person, and decided that we were just ... not the best anymore."

Michael sat up quickly. (Coraline secretly wondered if he had super speed.) "That's so mean."

"Yeah," she sighed, pouting her lip out as she placed her chin in her hand.

It was silent again. Coraline played with a thread coming off her shorts. Michael's eyes bore into her forehead, as if trying to burn a hole through her skin. She was fully aware of his stare, yet she did nothing about it. It almost felt ...  _nice_  to be stared at with admiration again.

"Do you have any friends?" She then asked, straightening her back.

The right side of Michael's lip curled. "Do  _you_?"

Coraline was surprised when she started to grin. They were both silent, refusing to answer their questions. Maybe it was better that way.

"You don't get out much, do you?" Coraline lifted a brow, and before he could reply, she waved a hand in front of his face. "Don't answer that. Being homeschooled makes it hard to meet people, but lucky for  _you_ , you met me. I'll be your friend." She nudged his arm.

Michael looked away and brushed a few strands of blonde from his eyes. "I don't think I'd make a good friend. Not many people like me. That's why its just me and Miriam."

Perhaps this was like a charity case, but Coraline was determined to help Michael Langdon. She didn't exactly know why. There was a part of him that called out to her, and she wasn't sure if she should push that part away.

She reached out and placed her hand on top of his. No words needed to be said. She only kept her hand there for a split second, pulling away before he could interpret anything. However, he didn't do a thing; he simply sat there. Michael then grinned her way. Her gut told her stay away, but ... Coraline Avery was going to be a good person  _and_  win the title of prom queen in the process.

This was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.  _Hopefully_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sO SORRY if this is so OOC for Michael (I think most of Act I might be OOC???) but he's just super complex so I'm always afraid of portraying him wrong
> 
> Anyways, there will be some uwu Soft™ uwu moments (only in Act I) and it might be OOC but it's honestly just how I portray him, I guess. Since watching episode 6 of Apocalypse, I think there is a strong form of vulnerability/humanity in Michael, especially when he was younger????? Idk fam, I'm trying my best here!!!!


	4. NOW OR NEVER

#### ACT I: YOUNGBLOODS

##### CHAPTER FOUR

#####  **__________________________**

**CORALINE**  had once viewed Michael Langdon as a charity case, a person she  _knew_ she could help. She never liked to admit she was wrong in her decisions, but in this instance, maybe she really was.

She didn't expect to enjoy his presence. He was happy at the worst times and asked all the right questions with obvious answers. He didn't understand half the topics Coraline talked about, causing her to have to teach him more than she liked. She even helped him with his homework, because he was determined to finally pass his last year of homeschooling. Being near Michael was  _different_  – different than her former friends, and even more different than her new ones. He was like a child stuck in an eighteen-year-old's body.

Coraline was surprised her mom hadn't found out yet, or even her club members. It had been two weeks already. She knew that Francesca would find out on her own someday, but the day of reckoning wasn't upon them just yet. Coraline wondered how'd she explain her befriending a Satanist. "Oh, you know, it started out with just me helping him, but he's actually really nice!" Yeah, that could definitely work.

She sat with Michael at the small, wooden desk in his room. He was hunched over the desk, holding a pencil too close to his face as he ogled the problem on the page. Coraline sat back against the wall, her butt pressed to his desk as she scrolled through an app on her phone. She heard Michael groan from her right, but she didn't blink at the sound. He was trying to figure out a chemistry problem – one of her worst enemies, among other things.

And then his fist slammed on the desk. Coraline felt the whole room rattled.

"Whoa!" She exclaimed, putting out a hand. Casting her eyes across the room, she noticed everything was still. No rattling. Nothing at all. Coraline blinked rapidly and decided that her mind was playing tricks on her. She swallowed hard when she turned back to him. "What's the problem?"

His head suddenly snapped up, brows furrowing with anger. Michael scoffed and threw his pencil across the room. It landed in a pile he already made by the door. He didn't voice a word about his frustration, only crossed his arms over his chest. Coraline leaned forward and peered down at the homework Miriam had drafted for him.

She felt her stomach drop when she noticed the familiar-looking problem.

_A 6.0 L sample at 25°C and 2.00 atm of pressure contains 0.5 mole of a gas. If an additional 0.25 mole of gas at the same pressure and temperature are added, what is the final total volume of the gas?_

Coraline almost felt  _woozy_. It was like she was back in junior year chemistry class, trying to finish that final exam. Just  _thinking_ of the vision made her head pound.

The visions – oh,  _God_. What if Michael ever saw her in that state of mind? It had yet to happen with Eloise, Billy, or Greg, but ... what  _if_? Michael was asking for her company on a regular basis now, saying how excited he was to have a friend to call on his house phone. There were so many ways for this to go wrong. However, when Michael Langdon sent her that famous, happy smile, she knew he was meant for great things. Maybe they could do great things together: the local Satanist and psycho (who was also the Soon-To-Be-Prom-Queen).

"Why are you so mad?" She finally asked, swallowing down the lump in her throat.

Michael frowned. "I'm just upset."

"Is it about the problem?" She placed a strand of brown behind her ear. "Because, I can try to –"

"No, its not the problem. But this homework is really dumb." He sighed and rubbed at his nose, as if he was going to cry.

Coraline raised a brow when he turned his stare to meet hers. Silence became another language for him. "If you're not going to tell me, I can just leave." She gestured with her thumb to the purse sitting in the corner of the room. She hopped off the desk to start walking towards her bag.

Michael instinctively reached for her arm, but before his skin could meet hers, Coraline moved her arm away, a playful grin on her lips.

"Don't," he said. "I need help, and you help me,  _remember_?"

She rolled her eyes and took the familiar seat next to him again. He stared at the scribbles on his homework for a minute longer, eyes dancing over each drawing he made when he couldn't figure out a problem. Coraline realized that he had mastered the art of the Satanic symbol. She wanted to feel scared of that fact, but she wasn't.

"I told Miriam that you were my friend," he whispered, setting his crossed arms on the desk and resting his chin on top. "She wasn't really happy about it."

Coraline stayed silent. Funny how she was in the same predicament, but she was simply waiting for her busy-body of a mother to open her eyes and find out.

"She says I shouldn't be friends with you. Because ... I don't know. Because you're not like us."

She nodded slowly, straightening her back as it hit the cold, cement wall. "I see," she muttered. "Well, what do  _you_ want, Michael?"

His eyes flickered to hers, creasing with worry. "What do you mean?"

"I  _mean_ ," she exhaled heavily, "what do  _you_ want? If you don't want to be my friend, that's understandable." She chuckled, but darkness leaked in her tone. "God  _knows_  I understand that shit."

His stare went wide. "No!" He shook his head wildly, trying to shake himself out of his seat. "I'm just ... I'm so angry. Why would she want me to exclude my first friend?"

Coraline swallowed hard.  _First friend_. Maybe it didn't mean much to most, but ... Coraline never realized how much power those two words had.

"Maybe she doesn't want you to forget about her," she finally replied. Coraline kept her arms firmly at her sides, afraid to lay a hand on his shaking form.

"I'm  _not_ going to forget about her." His mouth wobbled. "Can we just ... see each other in secret? Just until Miriam calms down about this. Maybe her hormones are all over the place." His sadness seemed to wash away, allowing him to finally sit up and smile. "I aced biology last year, if you couldn't tell."

Coraline grinned big and tried to suppress a giggle. She began to hate her laugh after her first  _episode_  because someone said she sounded like a psychotic hyena.

"We could be like Romeo and Juliet, except not. Because we're, like, not in –" She shrugged. "You get what I mean."

Michael cocked his head to the side. "I don't."

She finally exposed the chuckle, holding a hand over her mouth. Michael looked even more confused than he was before. The lamp bulb on the desk began to flicker in an odd sequence, but neither of them noticed. As Coraline's soft laughter died down, she let her hand fall and released a happy sigh. Michael hesitated before asking, "Why do you put your hand there when you laugh?"

"Oh, um –" Coraline tried to think of a response that wasn't so self deprecating. Sadly, most choices were. "I just don't like my laugh. People have told me it sounds like –"

"Like a bell," Michael finished, nodding his head curtly and grabbing a new pencil from a stack. He waved the pencil in her face. "People are mean and evil. The only way to stop them is to fight fire with – hmm – an even  _bigger_ fire. I like your laugh, Coraline, and I want everyone to realize how special it is. They'll all know someday."

Coraline froze as he turned back to his homework and began the problem all over again. She looked away, closing her grey eyes for a moment, and processed the response. There was a type of weird humanity inside of Michael Langdon that she'd never encountered before. All these people were so scared of him because his presence was attached to the word,  _Satanist_ , but Michael was something different.  _They'll all know someday_.

She licked her lips and leaned back in to see his solution. "So, about that problem ..."

#####  **__________________________**

Coraline felt her vision cloud at six thirty in the morning.

She was getting herself ready for school, and the best way to wake herself up was to shower in the morning. After scrubbing conditioner into her long, brown locks, Coraline began to wash it out, swinging her head from side to side. As she leaned down to check if her legs were stubbly, her vision went completely black. She knew what was coming, but hardly expected it.

This was the second vision she had in a month. That didn't  _usually_ happen.

She remembered gripping the tile walls, but it was no use. Coraline slipped down to her knees in the shower, slapping her hands against the walls. She was breathing heavily. The vision was so familiar, so lifelike: She was waiting outside her high school, trying to run forward towards it. Screams echoed from the inside. Coraline didn't know why, but she had the strongest urge to run back inside. Why was she outside anyways? An arm pulled her hand back, but before she could turn to look at the culprit, the darkness disappeared.

Coraline blinked fast, looking down at her naked body, soaked in water.  _Breathe_ , she thought to herself.  _You need to breathe_.

Weirdly enough, she had that vision before. Last month she had almost an exact copy of that scene, as if this recent one was a continuation of the last. Coraline wondered why everything was so out of tune now. What brought on this change? Her gut told her that maybe her visions were  _really_ trying to tell her something this time. But how could she figure them out if they didn't give her a clear cut answer? She wasn't one for deciphering.

She needed to get her mind off the visions that haunted her dreams at night. Today was supposed to be a special day. After he had begged her for two whole hours, Coraline agreed to take Michael to her board game club meeting that Tuesday afternoon. He briefed his whole plan to her, one that he seemed really proud of: "I'm gonna to tell Miriam that I'm going for a walk to the store, and then I'll meet you at your school," he chuckled. "Its  _so_ genius. She'll never find out."

Coraline guessed the idea of lying to his guardian was exciting, but that didn't mean the lie would fool Miriam  _at all_.

Regardless, Michael Langdon was still there, waiting for her outside the high school entrance at two thirty sharp. He was so much taller than everyone else, sticking out like a sore thumb in a crowd. His head moved back and forth as students passed around him. Some people stared at him; some were too scared to approach him. As Coraline shoved her way through the crowd of freed students, Michael met her grey eyes and smiled big. His expression was infectious, and she instantly found herself grinning in his direction.

"Right on time," Coraline noted once she was standing in front of him, adjusting the straps of her backpack. She gestured to the entrance of the school. "Are you ready?"

He nodded quickly. "Yes! Miriam didn't question a thing, and I'm excited to play a board game with your friends. It's not a usual hobby of mine." He paused, looking around at the unfamiliar people. "Why are all these people staring?"

Coraline viewed away, eyes flickering to all the people looking their way. Off in the distance, she noticed Amalia Beaumont ogling Michael with either wonder or judgment. Coraline wasn't sure which. It looked like she knew him somehow. The brunette fought against the snarl rising in her throat, and instead, gestured with her chin for Michael to follow her. Grabbing the hook on her backpack, Michael shuffled behind Coraline through the hoards of people.

Coraline didn't care that people were staring at her as she walked with this strange boy. Maybe some of them recognized Michael, or knew he was the new Satanist in town. Whatever they thought,  _she didn't care_. However, nerves stirred in her stomach while walking to the abandoned teacher's lounge for her club meeting. She was so  _terrified_ of her club's reaction, given that the last conversation they had on Michael and his caretaker almost ended with Greg walking out. Coraline just had to keep reminding herself that she was doing this  _for Michael_.

Through the dirty window of the lounge, she could see Billy and Eloise setting up a chess board. Greg was in his usual seat, phone in hand and a brow quirked as he stared at the little, bright screen. Coraline swallowed hard. She turned around to Michael, and he quickly let go of her backpack. He sent her a sickeningly sweet smile, one that made Coraline's stomach churn. She sighed, "Its now or never."

"What if they don't like me?" Michael began to fidget with his outfit, which consisted of a pair of dark-washed jeans and black sweatshirt. The Converse hugging his large feet were incredibly dirty.

Coraline's mouth opened, but she didn't know what to say. "I ..." She frowned. "I haven't thought that far yet."

Michael chuckled softly as Coraline spun back to the door. Eloise saw her through the window and waved, but a confused expression engulfed her face once she noticed Michael. Coraline quickly turned the door knob and opened it before she could back out, leaving the entrance wide open for them to walk in.

Everyone's head turned as they stepped inside. First, Eloise, then Billy, and finally, Greg. His face was the worst of all. Once he saw Michael, he dropped his phone into his lap. Billy just straightened his back after placing the final chess piece on the board.

"Cora," Eloise hummed, fast walking towards her friend with her hands clasped together. "You ... didn't tell us you were bringing a  _friend_."

"I – um ... I am now," Coraline replied, glancing at the rest of her friends. For a moment, she could've sworn she saw Greg glaring towards Michael. "Guys, this is Michael. Michael, meet Eloise, Billy, and Greg."

No response.

"My name is Michael Langdon," he introduced, causing Coraline to grimace at his repetition. "I've heard so much about you all from Coraline. Sorry for intruding, but I've never been to something like this, and you all seem like nice people."

"Nice people?" Billy laughed, which surprised everyone. "We're usually called,  _losers_. I like the change of pace."

Greg stood and lowered his stare. "How long have you known Cora now?"

Coraline's eyes narrowed as she watched him inch closer. "Greg, knock it off –"

"About nineteen days," Michael answered. "Feels like months, though."

Greg's eyes formed into slits. He viewed at Coraline angrily. "You brought your  _Satanist neighbor_?"

"Can you  _please_  stop?!" She exclaimed. Her fists were clenched then, which made Eloise step in and intervene. But nothing could stop the hot blood pumping through every vein in Coraline's body.

"He can't be here, Cor!"

Eloise shouted, "Greg, stop yelling!"

Billy approached the scene with his hands up in surrender. "What's goin' on here, guys?"

Coraline barked, "Greg Ramano, I am  _not_ afraid to punch you in the face –"

Everyone went silent once Michael raised a hand to speak.

"I don't mean to interrupt, but I don't judge you for what you believe in, so why are you judging mine?" Michael's nose wrinkled. Before Greg could fire back, he said, "How about we make a deal? If I beat you at a game of chess, you let me stay and get to know me, so I can get the full club experience. If you beat me, I'll leave."

Coraline shook her head, refusing to be apart of a dumb bet. Just as she was about to start the argument again, Greg said, "Okay, deal. You start,  _Langdon_."

Board game club suddenly became interesting. It was like one of those pay-per-view MMA fights, except ... it was two teenagers playing fucking chess. Greg was a whiz at this game; it was one of his favorites to play. He always beat them. None of them expected this game to go well for Michael. Even Coraline had barely any faith in him, because she  _knew_ the type of player Greg was.

But Michael was ... good. So good that he managed to distract Greg's play by making small talk with the other boy. So good that he got Greg to laugh at some of the things he said. So good that he actually  _won_.

"You beat me," Greg said, awestruck as Michael knocked down his king piece.

Michael smirked and glanced at Coraline's surprised expression. "I've been playing chess for years. I was taught very young." He then looked to everyone excitedly. "Can I stay and play another round?"

Eloise smiled to Coraline before showing the same happiness towards Michael. "Of course, you can."

Billy was now adamant to play Michael. He set up the board quickly, all the while Coraline hung by Michael's shoulder to watch how he conducted his play. She used to think that he had the mind of a child, but maybe Michael was  _really_ smart.

"This has been so much fun," Michael said while placing his white bishop right near the black one. Billy sighed in defeat, trying to calculate a move. "I'm so glad I got to meet you all."

Coraline grinned big, hitting Michael's shoulder, as Eloise replied, "We're happy that we  _actually_ got to know you, Michael.  _Right_ , Greg?"

"Yeah, yeah," Greg tsked.

"Coraline is so welcoming to everyone. I'm really glad she decided to talk to me. No one else has," Michael continued in a soft voice. He rested his chin in his hand. "She must be so popular around here."

Coraline shrugged. "I wouldn't say  _that_  –"

"Not anymore," Billy snorted. "Not after she went schizo."

Silence. Complete and utter  _silence_. Coraline's mouth flew open as she glared daggers at Billy. Greg stared at the chess board with wide eyes, and Eloise pursed her lips. "Oh, shit," Billy said. "Was I not supposed to say that?"

" _Schizo_?" Michael turned to look at Coraline. His brow creased with worry. "What does he mean by that?"

Coraline swallowed down the lump in her throat. She put on a mask, pretending as if Billy's words weren't hanging in the air before them. "Its nothing," she replied, nudging the chess board to Michael. "Your turn."

"But –"

" _Michael_ ," she continued, voice dropping low, "its  _your turn_."

He nodded before glancing back to the board. As he knocked down Billy's black bishop, he rested a hand on Coraline's jeans under the table. She inhaled heavily.  _He can't know_ , she reminded herself.

Coraline Avery wasn't going to be the local lunatic anymore. Not now. Not ever. And  _especially_ , not to Michael Langdon.


	5. A HUMAN AND A VISIONARY

#### ACT I: YOUNGBLOODS

##### CHAPTER FIVE

#####  **__________________________**

 

**_ONE MONTH LATER_ **

  
**CORALINE**  became a pro at sneaking out of the bedroom window to meet up with her secret friend. It was a daunting task at first: Coraline lived on the second floor of her large house, and there was no way to just jump down from her window without actually killing herself in the process. Outside her window was a ledge. To the right of that, a vine-covered ladder was nailed in place. Jacob once thought it made the house look more "homey." Coraline wondered if – had her parents stayed together – he ever thought his daughter would use this weak ladder to escape her room in the dead of night. Probably not.

She began to realize that Michael had the ability to win over anyone he met. He sometimes visited Coraline's board game club when he knew Miriam would be out of the house and got along well with her friends. Even Greg ended up  _slightly_ warming up to him. Coraline also made it her duty to show him some of the most important things to a teenager's experience. It seemed that Miriam deprived him of that, seeing as all he had on him for a cell phone was a silver Motorola flip phone from 2005. He didn't even know what Netflix was until Coraline asked him if he watched  _Stranger Things_.

The one person that he had yet to win over was Coraline's own mother. She guessed that was a given since Francesca Avery had yet to speak to him, and Coraline wasn't going to let that happen anytime soon. Despite her frequent absence from the big, brick home, Francesca was smart – smarter than her daughter apparently thought. She knew what was going on from the tiny cracks Coraline left in her window, and noticing that their Netflix membership now had another account attached to it named,  _Beast Head_.

Coraline wasn't as slick as she thought she was.

On a rainy, Sunday afternoon, Francesca walked into her daughter's room while putting on her favorite gold hoops. Jacob Avery had got them for her for their three-month anniversary years ago. Coraline was curled up on her bed, flipping through the never-ending TV guide with her remote that needed new batteries  _badly_. Francesca knocked on her daughter's open bedroom door, leaning against it in her work heels.

Coraline looked over, taking in her mother's work uniform. She hardly saw her in anything else nowadays. "I thought you weren't working today."

"The hotel asked me to come in," Francesca replied. "Someone called out. Can't say no to some extra money on my paycheck."

The daughter snorted, but decided not to respond. She hit the remote against her hand a couple times and hoped that would stop the lagging. It didn't.

Francesca took a step inside, crossing her arms over her chest. "What are doing today while I'm gone?"

"I don't know," Coraline shrugged. "I'll probably do some homework."

The mother's eyes narrowed. " _Really_?" She snarled, causing Coraline to look over. "Or are you going to sneak out of your window to visit the Satanist house down the street?"

Coraline's eyes formed into slits. Francesca put her hands on her hips, glaring down at her daughter. They truly were two of a kind sometimes.

"You don't know anything," Coraline scoffed.

"I so  _do_ , Coraline Rose!" The mother screamed, causing her daughter to cringe at hearing her full name. "Do you think I'm an idiot?! I know your favorite thing to do now is defying me, and I  _specifically_  asked you to stay away from those people. What – have those new  _meds_  done this to you? Do we need to get you another medication?"

Coraline hit her bed sheets with her hands, releasing an annoyed groan. "You let me go over there  _weeks ago_ to do your dirty work so they wouldn't 'kill us.' The boy over there needed a friend –  _a social life_. I'm  _helping_ him."

"Do you just ..." She let her hands drop to her sides. The fabric of her uniform clung to her small frame in such a delicate way, but ruffled whenever Francesca moved. "Do you get your jollies out of  _disobeying_  me?"

"No!" Coraline stood up from her bed and walked towards her mother. Crossing her arms over her chest, she replied, "I don't understand  _why_ you're so upset about these people. You stopped going to church years ago!"

Francesca suddenly pressed a finger to her daughter's lips. " _Shush_!" She squealed. "None of the other housewives knew that!"

Coraline whacked the finger away. Francesca's hands formed into fists, but they released after a short moment. " _God_ , I – if your father was here –"

"HE'S NOT!"

Coraline's outburst came out before she could stop herself. Her scream was loud –  _too loud_. Michael could probably hear it from his home. Coraline lowered her voice, but the malice never left her tone: "He's  _not_ here, mom. He left. And he wouldn't do anything otherwise. At least dad used to be open-minded enough to let new people in."

" _Open-minded_? Ha! He liked women who opened their –" Francesca stopped. She put up her hands and shook her head. Coraline froze in place. "Forget it. Go off with the Satanist kid, but the second he tries to kill you – or you have one of your  _episodes_ – don't come crawling to me."

The daughter's cold expression didn't cease. Francesca huffed and turned on her heel as she muttered, "I'm going to work now. I'll be back by ten tonight."

Coraline was tempted to tell her to not let the door hit her on the way out, but she decided not to waste her breath.

#####  **__________________________**

She ended up not going out to see Michael Langdon that day. Coraline had promised to help him again with his studies, but she wasn't going to give her mother the gratification she wanted. She was going to stay put right where she was: bored, in a cold room, while it rained buckets upon buckets outside.

Coraline had already finished her homework for the weekend, which consisted of finishing her ten-page essay on  _the Once and Future King_ by T.H. White. She got to page nine. Good enough.

For some reason,  _TBS_ was playing every Spider-Man movie to date throughout the night. From Toby Maguire's depressing interpretation to Emma Stone's horrible acting skills as she fell to her death, this marathon could distract her all night. Coraline decided that if she couldn't finish this essay on one of the most tedious books she had ever read, she might as well remind herself of her favorite movies as a child. She remembered having the weirdest crush on Toby Maguire when she was ten.

Coraline laid on her stomach as she watched Toby try his hand at fake crying on screen. Her desk lamp cast a bright, yellow light across the room, flickering slightly as the house settled. Coraline looked over at it. She awaited the day her electricity turned off for real. However, her mother always seemed to keep it under control.

But then came the knocking.

Coraline jolted in her spot. She sat up, turning to her window on the right. The knocking had come from that side of the room, as if someone was hitting their fist against the glass. What if it was an intruder? Her mom wasn't home, and there was  _no way_ she could fight off a guy with a knife, unless she had the upper hand. Coraline's thoughts were running a mile a minute. It was probably nothing. It was  _hopefully_ nothing.

Strands of brunette hair fell into Coraline's eyes as she hesitantly walked towards the window. Swallowing hard, she gripped the shade in her hands, curling her fingers tightly around the edge.  _Its nothing_ , she told herself.  _Do it. Just do it._

She flung the plastic shade up and released a shriek.

Michael Langdon. It was only Michael Langdon, sitting outside in the rain ... on her window ledge ... in the middle of the night. The scene screamed,  _serial killer_ , and yet, she was quickly pulling her window up for him.

"What are you doing here?!" She whispered loudly, despite no one else being in the house. Coraline wondered if her mother had somehow planted secret cameras in her room to watch her.

"I climbed the ledge," he stated bluntly, pointing to his path. "It was pretty easy to get up here."

Coraline raised a brow. "Okay, let me rephrase that:  _Why_ are you here at nine PM?!"

"You didn't stop by." His eyes softened. Coraline noticed his hair was damp with rainwater, as well as his clothes. "I got Miriam out of the house and  _everything_."

She placed a piece of hair behind her ear. The rest hung loosely in a bun at the top of her head. "I'm sorry."

Michael looked from her face to the warm walls of her bedroom. "Aren't you gonna let me in? It's actually cold out here."

"Um – yeah, okay." Coraline pushed the window open wider and stepped back, wringing her sweaty hands out. "It's not as warm in here as it is in your house."

"That's fine," he replied, climbing inside the small window. Michael fell to the floor, but before Coraline could help him, he was already up on his own two feet, shaking out the water from his hair. His eyes scanned the room, taking note of the various music posters covering her walls and painted flowers that lined the crevices of the ceiling.

"I'm sorry, again," she repeated, taking a step closer. It was insane how much he towered over her, and Coraline wasn't even short. "I was ... busy."

He paced in a circle and took in every piece of her room, everything that told him something new about her. He admired the old pictures by the window, attached to a cork board and curling at the edges. The colors were faded and the faces within them were unrecognizable. The people in the photos looked like Coraline, and she was so young, so impressionable.

Michael blinked, bring himself back to the conversation. He twisted towards Coraline once again. "Doesn't seem like you were  _that_  busy to me." He smirked, gesturing with his thumb to the TV screen. Toby Maguire was still crying.

"You caught me red-handed," she replied, wiggling her fingers in the air. "I ... my mom is – well – forbidding us to hang out, and I didn't want to give her the satisfaction of finding me with you when she gets home later. So, I just ..." Her shoulders slouched. "I couldn't go."

Michael bobbed his head. "Looks like we have to be more secretive."

Coraline snorted, covering her mouth with her hand. "Both of our guardians are going to kill us."

"Miriam wouldn't  _ever_  do that," he said with a roll of his eyes. Coraline was still laughing, and the hand was  _still_  there. Michael's teeth grit as he pushed the hand away from her mouth. "Stop that. If we cease to reveal our real emotions then we all might as well be ... lifeless robots." He looked to his shoes and grimaced. "That would make for a killer book. You know, us all being robots?"

Coraline quirked a brow up and removed her hand. " _Anyways_ ," she said, pointing to the flat screen TV behind him, "have you watched all the Spider-Man films? Like, the original and remakes?"

Michael frowned. "Um – no. I've never heard of it."

Her mouth dropped. "You've never heard of  _Spider-Man_?"

"Should I?"

"Of course!" She exclaimed, walking over to her almost-dead remote and beginning to rewind the TV movie. "That's it. You're sitting right here beside me and we're watching all of these movies. No matter how long it takes – or until my mom comes home."

Just as Michael began to stride to the corner of her bed, they heard a door slam downstairs. Michael froze, meeting Coraline's worried stare. "Spoke too soon," he giggled.

Her mother was home  _early_.

"CORALINE ROSE!" Francesca's voice rang in tune with her loud steps up the staircase. "Are you still mad at me or have you simply tried to lock me out of your room so you could sneak out?!"

Michael raised his brow. " _Coraline Rose_?"

"You need to get out!" Coraline whispered. "Get out now! The window! Go!"

He scrambled for the window latch, quickly lifting it up to find himself on the ledge again. His clothes were even more soaked now and his hair hung in wet strands in front of his eyes. He looked back to the window, realizing Coraline had already closed it and was waiting for him on the other side to leave. He watched her brow crease with worry. Her hand went to the glass. Michael had the instinctive urge to place his hand on his side of the window. He reached out, ready to feel the coolness of glass, but she closed the shade halfway before he even moved.

From inside the room, Coraline felt woozy as she walked to her door. She never realized she locked it. Placing a hand on her forehead, she sighed and opened the door to see her mother's anxious expression. Coraline figured she had whiplash, or something like that.

"I'm sorry for what I said," Francesca said, releasing her hair from the clip that held it up. "I shouldn't dictate the people you have in your life. I just ... You deserve the best. I want things to go back to normal for you."

Coraline opened her mouth to speak, but then her vision went black.

_Not again. Not now._

She gripped the door tightly, knees buckling from under her. Coraline tried to continue her thought, but she  _couldn't_. Francesca's face twisted as she said, "You're not going to apologize  _too_?"

"Mom, I –" Coraline's grip was slipping. Her knees clashed on the floor. Her hands were sticky with sweat. "I can't see.  _Mom_ , I can't –  _I can't see_."

Her body curled on the floor, causing Coraline to bump her head on her dresser, but it wasn't like she could feel anything at the moment. She felt like everything was caving in on itself. Everything was black, like she was swimming in a sea of darkness. She always wondered if these visions would make her go fully blind someday. Maybe today was that day. She was going to melt in the black ocean forever.

Francesca dropped to her knees, screaming like she witnessed a murder, and maybe she  _had_. She pushed her dark hair away from her eyes, unsure where to put her hands as her daughter jerked on the floor. "Cora! Coraline!" She shook her daughter's body quickly. "Coraline, wake up! Do you  _hear me_?! I said, 'Wake up!'"

Sniffles emerged in her nose. Francesca pulled her daughter up from under her armpits. The drowsiness from a long day of work was setting in, but she couldn't let that control her. "Cora,  _please_ ," she begged, hauling her daughter up. "Have you been taking your medication?! Huh?! Have you?!  _Please_ , Cora. Please, answer. I ... I don't ..."

Coraline twitched frantically as Francesca pulled her curled body into her arms. She didn't have the biggest muscles, but she could do this. She knew she could. She had to get to the hospital as fast as she could. "Everything's going to be okay, Coraline," she whispered. Her heels made it hard to run down the stairs. "I promise. I promise."

Michael Langdon still sat by the window ledge. Through the small slit in the shade, he saw the catastrophe that ensued between a mother and daughter, or even, a human and a visionary.

That was when Michael knew fate had brought Coraline Avery to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm definitely not,,,,,good with keeping with the canon timeline lmao. Just wanted to make it clear (because I defnitely haven't within the last couple of chapters) that Act I of this fic takes place like 6 or 5 months before Michael goes to the warlock school. So he's already left the Murder House a while ago and gone through his like "Antichrist Initiation" lol. I'm definitely stretching out the timeline, but it just helps with this story!


	6. INSUFFICIENT HUMAN SOULS

#### ACT I: YOUNGBLOODS

##### CHAPTER SIX

#####  **__________________________**

**HER**  visions were starting to become a constant continuum. They were scaring her, awakening her senses to something big. A cataclysm was on the horizon, lingering over the edge of town. She wished she paid more attention to the signs. Maybe she could've stopped the impending doom. However, she was sane enough to realize that nothing could stop the inevitable – not even her visions.

As Francesca drove bumpily to the nearest hospital, Coraline's thoughts drifted to another place. She was outside her high school again. Familiar screams echoed from the inside. Coraline heaved, wanting to release a string of words, but nothing came out. She couldn't even  _run_. Stumbling forward, she took note of the attire that barely covered her body: a tight, purple dress with a short skirt that flared out at the bottom. Coraline picked at the material, lifting her eyes to the scene ahead of her. Colored lights flashed inside the school. A banner hung above the entrance.

Her vision went blurry. She couldn't see the banner. She  _needed_ to see what it said. It was life or death now.

A hand clutched her arm, immediately pulling her back. The grip was gentle, yet firm. Soft fingers caressed the goosebumps that raised on her skin. Coraline stood there, watching the lights change colors with each shriek. She didn't know who was gripping her arm, but she felt the need to hold their hand. Her heart beat rapidly as the figure hissed, " _Coraline Rose_."

She finally turned. Two black eyes stared back at her.

#####  **__________________________**

Michael sped to his house once he saw Francesca Avery drive away with her unconscious daughter sprawled out in the backseat. He jumped from Coraline's window ledge, landing perfectly on the patchy grass. He ran as fast he could down the gravel sidewalk, hardly missing a step and refusing to trip. Every move he made was so precise. He didn't experience normal human inabilities.

The door was unlocked. Miriam Mead was sitting in the living room, a set of candles circling around her as she sang to herself. Michael halted his steps once he noticed her humming. She sensed his presence immediately, opening her bright eyes and whipping her head in his direction. "Back so soon? You seem to be walking  _a lot_ lately." She huffed under her breath.

"I need you to drive me somewhere."

Miriam lifted a brow. "Why?"

Michael swallowed hard. "A friend of mine is in trouble." He wasn't trying to admit to going behind Ms. Mead's back by visiting Coraline, but that's definitely what it sounded like. At this point, he didn't care. She was his guardian, but she had  _no authority_  over him.

"A  _friend_?" The short woman stood up from her position on the floor, approaching Michael with hesitation. "I don't understand, Michael. Why waste your time on these ...  _insufficient_  human souls? All they're good for is a sacrifice to the Father. They mean nothing to –"

" _Miriam Mead_ ," Michael snarled, "I am not asking you to do this for me. I am  _telling_ you. I know you are doing these things for our own good, but remember that  _you_  follow  _me_." He lifted his chin. "You will drive me to the nearest hospital. We're leaving now."

Miriam pursed her dark lips and nodded. "Yes, yes. Okay, yes."

They were gone within minutes. Miriam revved up the engine of her 1994 Subaru Leone, almost backing right into their trash cans sitting outside the small house. Michael pulled the seat belt over his body as Miriam began to speed down their street. He had never heard their car make such a powerful sound before. Michael swore that Miriam was pressing down on the gas pedal so hard that it was going to break. That would be  _so cool_ for him to see.

They were lucky no undercover officers were present on their drive to the hospital, which would've taken fifteen minutes to get to if they hadn't gone past the speed limit. Michael watched the clock with precision. It took them six minutes to get there.

"Stay in the car," Michael commanded. Miriam rolled her eyes at the order and sat back in the driver's seat. Slamming the door shut, Michael bolted to the hospital entrance. She  _had_  to be here. He  _knew_ she was here. He could feel her presence radiating off every corner. He could  _smell_ her.

Michael Langdon wasn't going to lose Coraline Avery. Not after what he witnessed.

He came to a full stop as soon as he walked through the gray doors. The lights above him were so bright, almost blinding him. People slept and waited impatiently in a small office space on his left. A desk was placed on the right, circling over the edge of the corner. Men and women in white coats lingered around the scene. They looked at Michael, taking in his distraught expression and knowing it was in their best judgment to walk away.

Michael's nostrils flared. A wild look took over his eyes as he approached the desk. A tall, blonde woman sat behind a computer, typing away as if she hadn't noticed his advance. After a minute, her pale, green eyes slid to his. Her lips formed into a straight line as she said, "Can I help you?"

"I – um –" Michael licked his lips. "I'm here to see a friend."

The blonde spun her chair around to fully face him. She locked her hands together in front of her red-painted lips. "Only family are permitted to visit patients."

"Listen," he spat, "I'm looking for Coraline Avery. Did you hear that?  _Coraline Rose Avery_. Where is she?"

"I  _can't_ tell you that."

Pounding his fists on the desk, Michael snarled, "Tell me where she is!"

The woman jumped from her seat. "Sir, I cannot –"

From inside the waiting room, Francesca Avery sat up from her slumped position when she heard a loud voice echoing in the distance. She blinked her sleep-deprived eyes, adjusting them to the hazy light. Outside the room was the front office, where a familiar-looking blonde boy seemed like was threatening the hospital secretary. Francesca's eyes narrowed.  _The Satanists_.

She quickly stood and grabbed her purse. The heels hugging her feet burned with each step, but she didn't care. She looked disheveled; she looked  _crazy_ , but that was the last thing she was thinking of at that moment. All she cared about was getting this Satanist boy  _away_ from her unconscious daughter.

"What are  _you_ doing here?!" She whispered loudly, trying not to disturb the peace, but it looked like Michael already had. Francesca tugged on the boy's arm, ripping him away from the front desk, and wagged her finger in front of his face. "You need  _to leave_."

Michael had to think of a lie. Lucky for him, that was one of his specialties. "I saw you guys leave in a hurry. I ... I wanted to see if there was anything I could do. Coraline has helped me. I want to help her."

" _You_  ..." Francesca's lip curled in disgust. She jabbed her finger into Michael's chest. "You will  _stay away_ from my daughter."

"She's my friend."

"No difference!" She exclaimed, flailing her arms in the air. "She was ruined after her first  _episode_. The minute her peers find out she's been dilly-dallying with the local Satanist, I ... I don't even want to think what they'll do to her. I want the best for my Coraline. I want her to be happy again."

Michael's fists shook. He felt himself about to explode. How dare  _she_ tell  _him_ what he couldn't do?

Slowly, he turned to look at the frazzled secretary again. The loitering doctors and nurses had disappeared from the scene. The second Michael laid eyes on the blonde secretary, her back straightened. The lights began to flicker above their head. Francesca's brow furrowed as she viewed up. Something was very,  _very_ wrong.

"You will tell me what room Coraline Avery is in," Michael demanded.

The secretary's eyes were glazed over. She wobbled from side to side, paralyzed from the power that oozed in his stare. "Room one-oh-four."

"NO!" Francesca shrieked, grabbing Michael's arm again to hold him back. Her eyes blazed with fury at the secretary. "What the  _fuck_ is wrong with you?!"

It didn't take a lot of strength for Michael to pull his arm out of Francesca's grasp. In fact, she let go willingly when he glanced to her, as if his bright eyes held a command of their own. He nodded curtly towards the blonde behind the desk. "Thank you," he said, before breaking into a sprint.

He heard the screams of Francesca Avery and various doctors as he ran. They weren't far behind him, but he was faster. He was  _always_ faster. Confusion wracked his brain as he sprinted down the sterile hospital corridor. Why was he doing  _this_? All for Coraline Avery? It didn't make much sense, given his track record. He crashed into a few doctors, sending them an annoyed glare, before looking over his shoulder. They were close. He had to hide, just for a minute.

He was approaching a maintenance closet on his right. Michael took a swift turn, as if he was made of lightning, and shoved his whole body inside the small room. He clicked the lock in place. Outside, he could hear several pairs of feet run past the closet, all shouting for him. "He went that way!" Francesca hollered. "Take a left! Hurry!"

Michael chuckled under his breath. Adults were so stupid sometimes.

He pressed his ear to the door.  _Nothing_. He didn't detect a sound anywhere near him. Michael slowly opened the closet door, peaking his head outside, before finally stepping out. He turned his head from left to right. Spinning on his heel, Michael began to walk casually through the corridor, amused that the mob had yet to find him.

 _Room 104_ , he reminded himself.  _Room 104_.

Michael counted each room he passed. His stare was focused solely on the numbers. Doctors shuffled on around him, but didn't question his presence at all. It was almost like he was invisible to their hectic consciousness. His eyes darted from time to time, wondering if he truly  _was_ invisible, or if these people were simply ignoring him.

 _100_...  _101_...  _102_  ...  _103_  ...  _104_.

Michael stopped short. There was a small window on the patient room door, allowing him access to look inside. He inched closer to the door and leaned down to look in. All he could see was  _white_. White sheets. White walls. White computers. Everything was so ...  _sterile_.

He was too impatient. Turning the handle, Michael hesitantly pushed the door open, but kept his feet planted in place. He wondered what his expression looked like as he stared at her in that blue patient gown, sprinkled with polka dots and little diamond shapes. He felt disgusted to see her in such a light, but he also felt relief. Confusion then hit him like a truck. Where did this caring come from? He hadn't known her long. Did  _fate_  place an inevitable bond of trust between them that they couldn't run from?

Sheets and blankets of the same color were scattered around Coraline. It looked like she had kicked them off the bed. Only one, single knitted blanket covered the bottom half of her body. A beeping sound repeated every few seconds. Her heart rate was normal. There was an IV in her arm, connected to a device Michael didn't recognize.  _They used it to make her go to sleep_ , he theorized.  _But why?_

Michael took several steps into the room, almost afraid to get near her. She looked so peaceful. He didn't want to disturb her, but she had a hypnotic pull that tugged him forward. Michael didn't like sleep. It was when the nightmares haunted him at night. But seeing Coraline Avery sleep was a beautiful sight in a world full of very ugly things.

He inhaled heavily, standing just an inch from her cot. Her hand lay idly on the cream blanket. Instinctively, Michael reached out. His hand paused, hanging in the air, like a gentle force was repelling him back. He pursed his lips. Heat diffused off every part of his body, or was it something radiating off of  _her_?

Michael brushed his fingers over her hand, and a spark emitted.

Not a real spark. Nothing appeared out of thin air. It was something he felt on the inside; a premonition in his gut. His insides swelled and flip-flopped. There was something within her – something he didn't expect. That wasn't just a spark. That was  _power_.

Michael kneeled before her cot, taking her hand in his. Quiet snores escaped from her lips, but all Michael heard was a ringing in his ears.

Miriam was wrong. Coraline Avery wasn't an insufficient human soul. Power surged through her veins like a disease, making every hair on his arm stand up. She wasn't a witch. She was something bigger than that: a bearer of knowledge for the unknown. This power within her –  _it could end the world_.

Fate had wanted this to happen. It didn't start with Coraline Avery deciding to be nice and befriend the Satanist kid down the street. It started because  _fate_ wanted it to. This was a plan; a future they both should've seen coming. But time was subjective, and so was power.

His ears were still ringing when security stormed the room. He heard Francesca Avery's voice again, but it was drowned out and hazy. It took a lot of strength for Michael to let go of her hand.


	7. SIX, SIX, SIX

#### ACT I: YOUNGBLOODS

##### CHAPTER SEVEN

#####  **__________________________**

**THE**  doctors were afraid that Coraline was going to "hurt herself," even when she said that if she wanted to commit suicide, she would've done it months ago. Francesca Avery had never seen one of her daughter's visions before her very eyes. Once it finally happened, she convinced herself it something other than the obvious: depression, a schizophrenic break, hallucinations, and  _of course_ , an overdose. Francesca was never content in reality. She never wanted to believe the evident truth, and Coraline couldn't blame her. The truth was scary.

So she had to miss a few days of school. No big deal. With the help of her friends, her absence was played off as a stomach bug. No one would ever know the truth of her visit, or why the nurses wouldn't let her fucking out of her patient room. Within a few days, everything was back to normal. At least, physically it was. Mentally –  _well_ , that was a different story.

Water glided down the first floor windows in the Avery household, fresh from a shower that had just passed over town. It was nine o'clock on Halloween night. Coraline had her first day back at school since the hospital visit, and she still managed to make it back home early to cook dinner, all thanks to Eloise giving her a ride. Her mother, on the other hand, worked late, and finally walked through the door at eight thirty. They didn't even hand out candy this year to the kids, and instead, Coraline left a bowl of Reese's and Butterfingers outside. She had made spaghetti and homemade sauce in the meantime, which was Francesca's favorite. The meal had gotten cold.

After having to microwave both their plates, the mother and daughter finally sat down for dinner. Both were silent, and Coraline felt that she,  _personally_ , had the right to be. She swirled the sauce around her plate, playing with the spaghetti that just wouldn't stay on her fork. The scents of garlic and spices filled the air, yet she didn't feel hungry. She was just  _angry_.

Francesca wiped the corner of her mouth with a napkin. "Thank you for making dinner again, Cora." She said, causing her daughter to roll her eyes when she looked away. "Did you hand out candy earlier?"

Coraline shook her head. "I was busy making dinner."

Francesca shoved a spoonful of spaghetti into her mouth. "How was your first day back at school since ..." She paused. "The  _thing_."

Coraline lifted her grey eyes. "Okay, I guess."

"Did anyone find out why you were gone?"

"Nope," she replied, popping the  _P_.

Francesca took a long sip from her glass of wine. She had poured it to the edge of the glass before they sat down and it was already half gone. Licking her lips, she asked, "Did you see that boy again today? The Satanist one?"

Coraline swallowed. "No, I –" She bit the inside of her cheek. "I got a ride home with Eloise today. I haven't seen him for a while."

"That's probably for the best. Wouldn't you agree?" Francesca lifted her hands in surrender once her daughter cast her a judgmental glance. "Hey, I'm not trying to dictate your life. Just making a suggestion." She swirled the wine around in her glass. "But  _God_ , Cora. You should've seen him when he came to the hospital that night. The kid got past fucking security and broke into your room!"

The daughter's eyes went wide. "Wait,  _what_?" This wasn't some scare tactic. Coraline could hear the truth in her mother's voice.

Francesca nodded. "I don't know how he did it. He kept asking the front desk for your room number and they refused him. Until ..." She scrunched up her mouth. "I'm not sure what happened. He just looked at the secretary and demanded to know where you were. It was like a switch went off in her brain and she just ... gave in."

Coraline blinked.

"The security team and I eventually found him in your patient room. I'm surprised they didn't arrest him. You were still unconscious from the IV, and somehow you didn't wake up from all the yelling. He was kneeling in front of your bed and just ... holding your hand." She shrugged. "Now do you understand why its best for you to stay away? Not just for safety against the unknown, but also your own reputation. You told me you were gonna start over again senior year; that prom queen was  _definitely_  in the cards for you."

The daughter looked away, smiling falsely. "I guess that's the plan," she muttered, stabbing her fork into a tiny piece of sausage. Tomato sauce splattered from bowl and onto the gold tablecloth.

And thus, Coraline began to hide from Michael Langdon. It wasn't out of fear or safety. In fact, it was quite the opposite. While Michael's hospital break-in caused her to question his moralities, it only made her realize how serious he took ... whatever kind of relationship they had. It was thrilling to know someone could be  _that_ loyal to you, after only knowing them for a few months. Coraline hadn't felt that special since the first vision.

But hesitation lingered within her. Out of all things, she wasn't afraid of the beast living a few houses down. She was afraid of what he might've seen. The last thing she ever wanted was for Michael to find out about the visions. She didn't want him to look at her differently, like everyone else had. The fear of him watching her twitch on the ground as the visions took over made a shiver crawl up her spine. She was sick to her stomach. Coraline remembered shoving him out of her window that night and pulling down her shade, so he couldn't have seen, right? He must've ran home after that,  _right_?

Despite her avoidance, Coraline decided that if he did know, she would trust him to keep it a secret. If he was as loyal to her as he depicted, she could at least do the same. But ... it wasn't the  _right time_. The visions were still new and fresh. She thought she had them down to a schedule, but that suddenly changed last month. Everything was still confusing and she just  _didn't_ need to be stressing about this. She wished for normality again, where the only thing she needed to be stressed about was getting the prom queen nomination and passing physics. She was going to ignore him until things felt right. Perhaps, that was her best option at the moment.

Later that week, Michael Langdon waited by a window near the front door. He was sprawled across an old, pleather couch, curling his arms around the back of the furniture. He felt shitty; he felt  _sad_. It was like growing up all over again, where everything he did was wrong, wrong, wrong.

Michael watched the lights turn out on the first floor of Coraline's house. She was avoiding him. It didn't take an idiot to realize that. He hadn't seen her walking home all week, which meant she was taking another way to dodge something. She wasn't answering his calls. She hardly left her house. All these signs could be traced back to  _him_ , but what did he do?

Could this be yet another abandonment? As Michael rested his chin on his arm and watched Coraline sit near her bedroom window on the second floor, he wondered if his past was coming back to haunt him, one that he always running away from. Was he cursed with an attraction to the wrong people, or were people really insufficient human souls, like Miriam said? The question repeated in his nightmares for days.

Michael Langdon hadn't cried in a long time. He almost broke that night.  _Almost_.

#####  **__________________________**

It was the first Wednesday of November that Coraline shoved the door open to the abandoned teacher's longue. Eloise Tran was at her side, trying to hold in her excitement that the club decided to play  _Twister_ after a long day of school work. However, when the two girls walked into board game club, they saw Greg Ramano making four decks of cards. Billy Dhar circled around the table, tearing off the hood that he kept on all day to hide his dark curls. He nodded towards Coraline and said, "Well, look what the cat dragged in."

Before Coraline could respond, Eloise shut the lounge door with a slam. "I thought we were playing  _Twister_!" She exclaimed. "What the hell, Greg? I was excited for it!"

"Neither of us could find it around our house. I'll try to get it for next week, okay? We're just gonna have to deal with  _Go Fish_  for once. It's an American pastime." He finally looked up to Coraline and straightened his back. "Where have you been?"

Coraline frowned. She forgot that she had been skipping a few club meetings to hang out with Michael, and then the hospital visit caused her to skip even more. She'd rather not dwell on any of that, but she knew Greg was going to want answers. It hurt him when people skipped, even though Eloise was the leader to begin with. Coraline felt bad for putting it on the backburner, but ... she was also starting to  _not_ care.

"Don't be rude, Greg," Eloise scoffed. She took a seat at the table and curled one leg under her, smoothing out her pastel pink skirt. "You know Cor was in the hospital."

Greg picked up his deck of cards, glancing to them for a moment. "She was there for four days. She hasn't been  _here_ for almost two weeks."

"I was busy,  _okay_?" Coraline sighed. "No need to talk about me like I'm not in the room."

"Hey, hey. Can I start?" Billy asked, causing everyone else to pick up their cards. The tension in the room wavered, but never boiled over. Billy puckered his lips as he looked at his deck, and he turned to Eloise. "El, do you have any sixes?"

Eloise tsked and handed her friend a six of clubs. Billy grinned, placing the card in a pile with a six of spades and a six of hearts he had in his deck. "Speaking of six, six, six," he drawled, "how's your Satanist boyfriend?"

Coraline rolled her eyes. "He's not my boyfriend."

"Sure, he isn't. You got a six of diamonds?"

She smirked. "Nope, go fish."

Billy groaned and picked up a card from the main deck. Eloise pursed her lips from Coraline's right. "He seems to admire you, Cora," she muttered. "It's quite cute the way he stares at you."

Coraline raised a brow. "Didn't notice. You got any Queens?"

"No," Eloise shook her head, "go fish."

Coraline frowned and picked up a card. A Queen of Hearts. Exactly what she needed.

"You sound put off by him," Greg commented. "Finally realized you were wrong? Or is there trouble in paradise?" He looked to Billy, and the two boys shared a chuckle.

"Its none of your business," she snarled, watching Greg's laughter die down. Billy stopped immediately once Coraline sent him a glare. "What's so funny, anyways?"

Greg shook his head. "Nothing, nothing," he assured, releasing a long sigh. Flipping through his cards, he finally looked at Coraline from over the edge of his deck. "I just think its hilarious how you won't admit to dating a Satanist."

Coraline's mouth dropped.

"We're your friends, Cor! You can tell us!" He continued, waving his cards in her face. "Anyways, you got any eights?"

"Hey, buddy," Billy interrupted, "I don't think you wanna –"

"Shut  _the fuck_ up, Greg!" Coraline shouted, leaning into the table to meet his eyes. "I've told you a thousand times: Michael is  _not_ my boyfriend, and I would appreciate if you would  _stop_ chastising me for being his friend. It's not your business, so shut up and get over it."

Eloise chewed on her bottom lip, unsure if she should've broke apart that fight. Billy frowned as Greg sat back in his chair, feeling defeated. Michael Langdon was tearing this club apart, and he didn't even need to be present to do it.

"Oh, yeah," Coraline finished, "go fish."

#####  **__________________________**

Coraline dragged two white buckets filled to the brink with water bottles and various paper products. Her mother was on a water kick lately, convincing herself that drinking more of it will cause her eye wrinkles to disappear. She was drinking over the recommended ounce levels a day, which made Coraline have to separate the recycling more often. Coraline picked up a few bottles that strayed from the buckets as she tugged them to their barrels outside.

She released a huff. Coraline told her mother that she had a big exam to study for and asked if she could –  _for once_  – do the recycling instead. Of course, she was met with a big, fat, "No." At least she tried.

Separating their recyclables with a quick, yet dueling task, especially in the dark. The moon was Coraline's only source for light now, as she squinted at the objects in her hand. She sighed, tossing paper products in one barrel and plastic in another. She began to hum a tune to herself as she did it, wondering if that would make this go by faster. (It didn't.)

"Coraline Avery."

She jumped at the sound of her name, standing up straight and using the large bottle in her hand to defend herself. However, all she saw through the darkness was a pair of familiar, blue eyes and hair gifted by the sun. Coraline lowered the bottle, but still gripped it tightly in her small hand.

Michael Langdon looked to his shoes before finally meeting her stare again. Standing on the sidewalk in front of her house, she watched him tilt on the heels of his sneakers. He clasped his hands behind his back, feeling himself cower at her presence. Why was he shying away from her all of a sudden? What was so scary? It was toss up between the inevitable truth and the power he knew that lurked underneath her skin.

"Hi," he finally said.

She lifted her chin. "Hi."

"Haven't seen you around."

"Yeah."

Coraline viewed away for a moment, allowing the silence to take over her body. She swallowed hard. "My mom told me what you did," she muttered, turning back to him with a blank expression. "How you came to the hospital to check on me."

Michael smiled softly. It was nothing like his usual, bright grin. He shrugged his shoulders and hesitated, contemplating his next words. He watched her grip loosen on the water bottle in her right hand. "Is that why you've been avoiding me?"

Coraline's mouth opened, but no words fell out. She was awestruck and couldn't form a response.

"Are you afraid of me?" He asked, taking a step closer.

Coraline's arm shot out, holding the bottle in front of her. It was a reflex, but Michael took it as a threat. He put his hands up in surrender.

"No, no. I ..." She shook her head. The bottle in her hand vibrated. "I'm not afraid of you. Why would I be afraid?"

"Because everyone else is," he replied quickly. "Because I broke into your hospital room to see you were okay."

Her eyes softened. Guilt swelled in her chest, crawling all over her body. "I've witnessed scarier shit, Langdon."

Michael nodded, unable to respond.

"What ..." She closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them again, he was closer in front of her. Hesitantly, she lowered her arm. "What did you see that night?" Her teeth grit. "Were you still outside my window?"

He nodded again.

Coraline's eyes grew wider than ever before. "You saw me lose consciousness. You saw me during one of my ..." She paused. The word,  _episode_ , hung by the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't lie and say it.

"You have to tell me everything," he directed, now standing inches from her. Michael reached out to grab her hands – to feel the  _energy_  and  _insight_  that surged through her – but she kept her arms firmly at her hips. "You have power within you. I've felt it. I can help –"

Coraline pressed a finger to his lips. " _Shush_!" She whispered, and then looked over her shoulder. Through the sheer curtains, she could see Francesca cleaning off the table, probably wondering what was taking her daughter so long. She licked her lips and turned back to Michael Langdon, noticing the darkness that had taken over his stare.

"Meet me in my room in ten minutes. I'll leave the window open."


	8. PROPHETIC

#### ACT I: YOUNGBLOODS

##### CHAPTER EIGHT

#####  **__________________________**

**CORALINE**  hadn't drank hot chocolate in years, so it was hard to convince her mother why she was currently carrying a mug of it upstairs to her room. "I'm just ... preparing for colder weather," she said, as if that was going to happen in California. Francesca really didn't seem to notice as she began to scrub the dishes clean.

She tip-toed up the stairs carefully, trying not to spill the hot chocolate that she filled to the edge. A dollop of marshmallow Fluff floated at the top of the mug. Pushing the door open to her room, Coraline spotted Michael sitting on the floor, right beside the window. She closed her door immediately and locked it.

"Here," she said, handing him the warm mug. "I made this for you."

Michael reached up and took the cup gratefully. He sniffed the contents. "What is it?"

"Hot chocolate. You've never had that before?" She quirked a brow upward, and Michael shook his head in response. "Boy, you've really been cut off from the modern world."

He chuckled under his breath, taking a large sip from the cup and almost burning his tongue. He didn't let it show though. Michael liked the burning.

Coraline sat in front of him, crossing her legs over each other, and smiled. "Is it good?"

"Yeah," he nodded, " _really_ good."

She hummed in response, unsure of how she should start this conversation. Tension hung in the air before them. Coraline never thought she would have to be this vulnerable situation with Michael Langdon when she met him, but he was adamant, telling her things like, "You have power within you." How could  _he_ know, out of all people? She had never actually talked about her visions with anymore, and the thought of starting sent shivers down her spine.

"Are you going to tell me your story now?" He asked, taking another sip of the hot chocolate. Fluff coated his upper lip.

Coraline giggled and wiped marshmellow from his mouth with her thumb. "I don't really know how to start," she replied. Her voice dropped to a whisper, and she desperately hoped her mother couldn't hear them. "Um – well, what do  _you_ want to know?"

"What are your powers?"

She leaned back and wrinkled her nose. "How do you  _know_ I have powers?"

Michael set the mug down on his lap. "I felt them," he whispered. "When I ... when I broke into your hospital room, something told me to touch your skin. I held your hand and I just ... felt  _it_ , like a surge of energy bubbling underneath the skin."

She shrugged, making a note to ask him how he could feel her energy later. It didn't seem as important right now while he was staring at her with awe, wondering what was tying them together. Coraline pursed her lips.

"I have visions of the future, to put it simply." She pulled her knees to her chest and rested her chin on them. "They started last year. I blacked out in the middle of a Chemistry exam and everyone saw me flinch on the floor. They said I looked like I was being possessed, but doctors diagnosed me as schizophrenic." Coraline held up her hands for a moment. "Which I am  _not_. My visions are real and not weird hallucinations."

Michael looked down at the mug in his hands, watching the marshmallow fluff disappear into the hot liquid. "What happened after that?"

"They all made fun of me." She looked away. His eyes were full of pity and she didn't want to see it. "Even my friends. I was once at the top of the high school food chain, but once I had that public episode, they all labeled me as a psycho. 'Crazy Coraline,' they'd call me. I lost everything." She smiled for a short second. "Thank god, Eloise invited me to board game club last year. If it weren't for her and the guys, I don't know where I'd be. Probably six feet under. Teenagers are a cruel species."

He furrowed his brow. How could anyone be so mean to their friend like that? Coraline didn't ask for this power, but when she got it, her friends cast her out for no reason. Michael was angry  _for_ her. Humans were so evil and ugly. It made him  _sick_.

"The visions," he pressed on. "What are they about?"

Coraline scrunched up her mouth. "Random stuff," she quickly replied. It was followed by a sigh of regret. "Well, I guess not so random. They usually involve death and traumatic events. I even saw Trump win the presidency. It sucked having to keep that quiet."

It all made sense now. At least, he thought it did. Michael remembered asking the Cardinals of the Church of Satan certain histories he should know. They explained to him a number of terms, most of which his young brain couldn't recall at the moment, but a few words remained clear.

 _Prophets are essential to organizing the End of Days_ , Miriam once told him.  _They are individuals in contact with with our Father and said to speak on his behalf, serving as an intermediary with us. They receive messages from Him through visions, which foretell future events that we must know_ _for the End._ _They are one of the most important figures to our cause._

At first, he assumed Coraline was gifted – or  _cursed_ – with some kind of magical abilities he could harness for his own plans. He thought she was just more power to gain. But she had more. Oh, so much  _more_.

"A prophet," Michael whispered under his breath.

Coraline leaned forward. "A  _what_?"

He looked up, meeting her stare with wide, blue eyes. "You're a prophet, Coraline." Michael paused, seeing if his words sunk. By the confused expression she was giving him, he guessed it hadn't. "You know, a person who foretells the future. You're in contact with a higher power and receive messages that have yet to come. A prophet. You're a  _prophet_."

Coraline stared at him with a lifted brow. Eventually, a few chuckles slipped out of her pretty, pink mouth. "You must be as delusional as I am, Michael," she sighed, allowing the laughs to fade from her system. Coraline shook her head. "You might be wrong on this one. I think I was just ... cursed by the Devil or something."

" _He_  wouldn't do that," Michael argued and waved a finger at her. "I'm right. You just don't want to believe it."

She rolled her eyes. "And how do  _you_ know that?"

"Because  _I'm_ the Chosen One."

Coraline stayed silent, looking at him with wide eyes. She swore her brow was so high that it probably reached her hairline. The house creaked as a wind passed by outside, making her look over her shoulder at the locked door. She turned back to Michael with a worried expression.

"What does that even mean?" She asked in a low voice and looked to his hands. "Can you please stop playing with that mug? I don't want the hot chocolate to spill."

Michael hadn't realized he was tipping the cup of now lukewarm chocolate in between his hands until she spoke up. He was nervous, knowing that it was now  _his_ time to explain himself. Michael thought about lying, but that wouldn't solve anything. In order for her to believe him, he had to tell her everything – all the gory truth. She'd believe him then. She had to.

"It means that I am ...  _gifted_ , you could say," he finally spoke. "I don't have full control of the power yet. I do things without meaning it sometimes."

Coraline parted her lips. "You're gifted. Not cursed?"

"Miriam doesn't call it a curse," he replied with a shake of his head. "My memory comes in waves. I never knew my parents. I remember my first caretaker, my grandma, tried giving me a sacred intervention because of my gifts. The man she invited over shoved a cross in my face and scared me. I don't remember what happened after that.

"Then, I found my grandma dead. I feel like it was my fault. I was a lot to handle and Miriam has been the only one who has understood me. I guess ... I just wanted to please my grandma, but it wasn't enough. It was too much for her.

"I remember a man finding me at that point. He talked to me and I thought he appreciated my gifts. He knew how to control them; how to control  _me_. I remember him feeling like a father, but ... I don't remember his name. He would always call me brilliant; that I was five steps ahead of everyone else. It made me feel special."

Michael swallowed hard, bring the cup of hot chocolate to his lips again and hoping the liquid would burn him. The burning helped ease stress. It lifted the worries away. However, his drink had gone cold.

"But I didn't want him to control me anymore," he continued. "I don't like not being in control of my gift. It was given to me by  _Him_."

Coraline wrinkled her nose, unsure whether he was talking about God or the Devil. She didn't want to ask which.

"The man ended up abandoning me. I was too difficult to control. He said he never could've helped me." His face was stone cold. He couldn't even meet Coraline's worried stare. But then, a soft smile grace his lips. "That was when Miriam found me. She recognized my gift and commended me for it. She raised me as one of her own, calling me the Chosen One. Its all I've ever known since."

Coraline didn't know how she should've taken the story. Her expression was blank, a mask of pure confusion and shock. Her desk light flickered over his head, bringing her back to reality. Coraline blinked about a dozen times before she met his eyes again. He had been staring at her, waiting desperately for an answer. She couldn't give him one.

"I feel ..." Michael shook his head and looked away.

She knitted her brow. "What?"

"It's stupid."

"No, it's not," she promised. "Just say it."

He licked his lips, viewing up at her again. "I don't know." He bobbed his head back in forth. "I feel like you're the first person I've decided to trust since I met Miriam."

Coraline rubbed a finger over her lips. She closed her eyes for a moment, not believing the conversation she was having with her Satanist neighbor. They had just met over a month ago, but it felt like ... they had known each other for  _years_. As if, they knew each other in another life. It was all happening so fast and she was lightheaded. But at the same time, this pace felt correct. It didn't feel rushed; it felt normal, like years had past by, rather than a month and a half.

"Can you answer a question for me?" She removed her hand from her lids, where she had been rubbing the sleep away. She inhaled deeply when he nodded. "You said that if our skin is touching, we can feel each other's ...  _energy_. Correct? Like, we're connected."

Michael nodded again.

Coraline hesitated. She crossed her legs again and slid herself closer to him. He pressed his back against the wall, yet still found his body gravitating towards her, like it was being controlled by someone else. She lifted her hand, but stopped for a moment when she saw his confused expression. Bile was rising in her throat. She reached out again and carefully – oh, so  _carefully_  – placed her hand on his cheek.

She felt it then.

Energy surged from her hand to his skin. It felt like an electric shock, but one that completely numbed her hand and made it addicting to walk away. It made her feel powerful. Coraline's lips fell open as the energy connected to every muscle, every  _tissue_ , in her system. It felt magical. This was something out of a movie.

She raised her hand just a little bit, not prepared for the sight. As her fingertips lifted from his cheek, she could see thin, glossy lines connecting her skin to his. They looked like thread made out of glitter, uniting their energies together. Coraline's eyes went wide. It was as if they had some kind of invisible bond.

"Did you feel that?" She whispered, finally removing her hand.

"Yeah," he nodded quickly. "It felt ..."

The two chorused together: " _Awesome_."

Coraline stared at her hand. She flexed it in and out. Biting her lip, she said, "I wonder how else we could feel that."

He raised a brow, perplexed. "I don't know what you're suggesting –"

Before she could stop herself, Coraline was leaning in and pressing her lips to his cheek. The energy surged more than ever before. It wavered from his cheek to her lips, flowing through her mouth and coating her entire throat. It felt like a drug, and she was already  _addicted_.

She lifted her lips from his cheek, but her face was still an inch from his. The gap was  _too small_ , yet she didn't want to move away. Michael was staring at her with curiosity. For a boy of eighteen, he was looking at her like he found his first crush. His lips parted, inviting. Coraline pushed tufts of hair from his face.

"Can you ..." Michael paused, unsure of what to say. He tapped a finger to his mouth. "So we can feel it again?" His cheeks flushed. " _Experimental_ , of course."

Coraline found her lips curling. "Experimental," she repeated.

Locking her hands around his cheeks, Coraline kissed him hard. The power – it never felt so good. It made her heart skip a beat. The threads around them tightened, trying to squish their insides together.

Michael was frozen in place as he contemplated what to do. He'd never kissed a girl before. In his ear, he heard a dark voice telling him to press on.  _Unite_ , it repeated.  _It is the power of the Trinity_. And so, he did. Michael Langdon kissed Coraline Avery to their heart's content as the Father whispered in his ear. The glossy threads twisted around every part of their bodies, sewing them into a cocoon. It never felt better.

Coraline liked to think it was the bond that kept her kissing Michael Langdon. Or maybe their hearts were just hungry.


	9. STANDARD PROCEDURE

#### ACT I: YOUNGBLOODS

##### CHAPTER NINE

#####  **__________________________**

**THEY**  didn't talk about the kiss again.

Coraline was anxious. She didn't have the heart to ask him if he had kissed anyone before. She assumed he had. He  _was_ eighteen years old; most would've had theirs by then. If not with a person they knew, then with their pillow,  _at least_. Despite being homeschooled, he was ...  _handsome_ , with golden hair and soft skin. Someone had to be lining up to kiss him before Coraline.

However, it didn't feel like that was the case. He seemed awkward, like he didn't know where to put his hands. His mouth had been frozen until a minute into the kiss. Coraline hardly noticed at the time; too consumed by the energy flowing back and forth between them. She wanted to do it again. She wanted to  _feel_  it again.

But she never asked. She never even mentioned the kiss. They went on with their lives as if it had never happened. Maybe that was a good thing.

Coraline also made the decision to never ask Michael about being the supposed "Chosen One." She didn't want to think about it, nor did she want to research it. Coraline didn't know if she believed him, and Googling it would just thrust her more into this fantasy world of his that she wanted to keep out of. Yes, she did think he was gifted –  _somehow_. She felt the raw power running through his veins and mingling with her skin, but there was  _no way_ this boy with a shitty past was some almighty being.

She wasn't even sure if she believed in being a prophet. Maybe she was. Maybe she wasn't. The definitions between her and her visions matched up, but she didn't believe for one second that she was receiving divine messages from some sort of supernatural higher power.

"I don't think you're understanding it."

Coraline looked up at Michael as he tried to explain her "prophetism" for the tenth time that day. If it didn't sink in the first time, it never would. But he was adamant, and she could tell from his tone.

They walked through the small everglade just outside the borders of her house. Her father had a lot of these trees planted so they could be surrounded by nature. Coraline wondered what he'd think of them now, covered in moss and surrounded by a swamp. Taking Michael's arm, she led him past the swamp, feeling a tingle of electricity rise as their skin made contact.

"I  _do_  understand," she told him defiantly. "I just think I'm cursed. I can't be some kind of messenger from God."

Michael chuckled. "I never said your visions were from  _God_."

Coraline furrowed her brow, turning on her heel to face him. Their shoes started to stick to the wet ground, and Michael almost tripped backward when she stopped walking. Their bodies were inches apart. It made him think about the kiss and what it would be like to feel her power again. They were both wondering the same thing, but neither wanted to mention it.

"Then  _who_ are they from?" She asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

His lip curled. "You know," he replied, brushing his fingers across her cheek to place a piece of hair behind her ear. Coraline's breath hitched in her throat.

"I still don't believe you," she whispered.

Michael rolled his eyes, pulling on her arm for her to walk forward. The tingles got heavier, like a weight was holding his hand to her elbow. "Well, whatever it is, you know that you have a cool gift. We both do, but for different reasons." He looked over his shoulder to smile at her. Coraline thought they were walking  _dangerously close_ to the swamp. "You just gotta think of a way we can use it for good. To rebuild this shitty town. To get back at the awful people who cast you out."

Coraline wasn't so sure about that and wondered if Michael wanted to use her sight for good or just revenge. She kept her mouth shut. Michael teetered on the edge of the swamp, which was lined with several cinderblocks to keep it contained. Her mother built that early this year when she noticed the swamp was beginning to overflow. Michael hopped on top of the blocks, dragging Coraline with him, and began to carefully step across it.

"This is fun, Coraline," he laughed. "How come you never showed me this place before?"

Coraline wobbled and almost lost her balance. Michael continued to walk across the skinny cinderblocks. He didn't even care if they fell and hit their heads. How could someone live that  _fearlessly_? So unafraid of death?

"Michael," she called, "we should get down."

"Why?" He snorted. "Did one of your  _visions_ tell you that we're going to fall?"

Coraline swayed. "No, I  _know_ we're going to –"

And just like that – they were falling. The two teenagers splashed into the three-foot swamp, allowing the dirty water and wet grass to stain their clothes. Coraline came up instantly and blew water out of her nose. She shook her head, blinking her eyes rapidly and wiping the mascara that was surely running down her eyes. She looked around, not spotting Michael around her. How could he get lost in a  _three-foot swamp_?

"Michael?" She whipped her head back and forth. "Hey!  _Michael_ , where are you?!"

A figure burst from the dirty water, arms out and shrieking maniacally at her. Coraline screamed and held a hand to her chest, but immediately went quiet when she realized it was just Michael scaring her. His blonde hair lay flat against his forehead, and every piece of his black clothing was soaked to the core.

"Asshole!" She yelled, shoving a handful of swamp water his way. They did it back and forth for a long time –  _too_   _long_  for a pair of teenagers. They felt like kids. In that moment, they weren't the Chosen One and a prophet. They were just Michael and Coraline, having fun and being  _young_.

She wished some kind of higher power told her that those stains weren't going to come out of her clothes after that day.

#####  **__________________________**

It was on a sunny Thursday afternoon that Coraline Avery stopped outside Michael Langdon's house. She was walking home, an old Bruce Springsteen album blasting through her headphones, when she noticed Miriam's 1994 Subaru Leone not in the driveway. Her feet came to a halt on the pavement in front of Michael's front lawn. She chewed a big piece of gum in her mouth and popped a bubble.

Michael had been reading something on the grey porch, from what she could see. Upon hearing her approach, he grinned and stood from a neon green lawn chair. Michael walked down the front steps, where the paint was currently chipping, and across the dying lawn. "Hi, Coraline," he said happily, stopping just a foot from her. There was a weird power dynamic between them then, with him standing on the taller grass and her waiting for him on the lower pavement.

"Hello, Michael." She bounced on the back of her heels.

"How was your day at school?"

Coraline shrugged. "Same old, same old."

"Was anyone mean to you?"

"Teenagers don't have the guts to be cruel to your face anymore," she replied. "Besides, I have my heart set on better things, more important than rude people." She sighed longingly as the words,  _Prom Queen_ , floated across her vision.

Michael hummed a reply. Coraline looked to his hands, noticing the thin book that rested in one of them. She popped a bubble in her mouth and lifted his hand, already feeling the electric threads wrap around their skin. He was holding a Spider-Man comic, the second one to ever feature him from the sixties.

Coraline raised a brow. "You're reading  _Spider-Man_?"

"We never got to watch those movies, so I thought I'd take it into my own hands." He smiled proudly. "I have no way to watch the movies at home. I ended up going to the library a couple days ago and picking out some books with him in it. They're really interesting, Coraline. Have you read them?"

She wrinkled her nose. "No, actually, I haven't. I've only watched the movies." Popping another bubble, Coraline put up her hands to stop him from rambling on. "I didn't come here to talk about Spider-Man, believe it or not. I think I may have a proposition for you."

"A  _proposition_ ," he repeated with a nod.

Coraline smirked wide. This was just a thought she had on her mind lately, one that she never thought she'd execute. But as soon as she stepped foot near his property that afternoon, confidence came over her, and she found it hard to ignore.

"We should go to the movies this Saturday."

Michael's brow shot up. " _We_?"

"Yes," she nodded, " _we_ , as in you and me. Together. The  _two_ of us."

"Okay ..." He frowned. "What's the movies?"

Coraline blinked. "You  _cannot_ tell me that in your eighteen years of living that you've never been to a  _movie theater_."

His chin arched for a moment, as if he couldn't believe his own age. Coraline narrowed her eyes at the action, but didn't question it. "Nope," he shook his head, "never been."

"Well, then ... we can go and I'll show you the ropes." She stuck her hands in her back pockets, pausing to blow out a bubble. "You know, you buy me buttery popcorn. I put my hand down your pants. Normal teenager thing."

His eyes went wide. " _What_?!" Michael waved his hands around. "I don't think that's necessary."

"What? Buying me popcorn? That's  _very_ necessary –"

"No," he responded quietly, "the  _other thing_." Michael swallowed hard, watching Coraline with a worried stare. He locked his hands behind his back. "Is this like a ... like a ..."

She cocked her head to the side. "A  _date_?" He nodded fiercely at her question, which made Coraline sighed gracefully. It sounded like music to Michael. "I don't know. It can be whatever you want it to be."

Reaching out, Coraline placed a hand on his shoulder. Her grip was so tight he could feel it through the cotton of his black shirt. Electricity poured from her fingertips and onto his whole body. Coraline noticed that it felt warm to touch, as if he always had a fever running through his system. Not even the chill breeze spreading through the tree troops could cool him. The threads made her take a step closer. Michael dropped his comic book.

Once she was close enough, Coraline's lips curled in a funny way. "Just make sure you're at my house by eight. Standard procedure."

#####  **__________________________**

The last thing Coraline expected was for her mother to be home that Saturday night.

She was never home, like  _ever_ , on Saturdays. The hotel frequently called her in, even when she was supposed to have Saturdays off. A hostess recently quit and they knew Francesca would do anything for more hours, despite her lack of sleep. She was good at her job too. Her smile was infectious and she always knew how to make someone feel welcome.

So when Coraline saw her setting up dinner as the clock neared eight PM, she almost had a massive heart attack. She watched as her mother popped a pizza sheet into the oven, smacking her hands together to dust away the flour. Coraline was frozen in place. How obvious could it be that she was going out tonight? From her clearly made-up face to her favorite tight jeans, she'd say  _very_.

"What are you doing home?" Coraline asked, causing Francesca's head to snap up.

Her mother shrugged. "I have Saturdays off."

"Yeah, but you're  _always_  called in."

"Guess they didn't need me," she huffed, turning the timer on the stove to thirty minutes. Francesca then turned back to eye her daughter suspiciously. "You sure look nice for homemade pizza tonight."

Coraline's mouth dropped. "Um ..." She twisted her hands behind her back. "Well,  _you see_  –"

The doorbell rang.

Coraline looked from the door, and then back to her mother. Francesca now had her hands on her hips. Her mouth went dry as her mother said, "Now,  _who_ is that?"

"No one," Coraline lied.

But it was already too late. Before she could pull her mother away, she was running to the door, yanking it open. Coraline tugged her back, trying to shut the door, but it was open now, allowing the person on the other side to see in. The two were caught in a tussle as they looked up to see Michael Langdon staring at them, worry flashing across his eyes.

Coraline blew a strand of hair out of her face. She shook her mother's hands off of her as she pressed her back to the door. "Okay," she said, clearly out breath, "I'll be going now –"

Francesca smacked her hand against the door, holding it wide open. She narrowed her eyes at her daughter, then moved onto Michael. Her mouth twitched with anger. "What's this?" She whispered. "When did  _this_ start?"

Coraline glanced at Michael. The two teenagers swallowed hard. Before Coraline could make up an excuse for lying to her mother, Michael's hand shot out. "Good evening, Mrs. Avery," he greeted with a sweet smile.

" _Ms._  Avery," Francesca corrected, clicking her tongue in the process. She glared at her daughter and crossed her arms over her chest. "I thought I told you in the hospital to stay away from my daughter. And I thought I told  _you_  –" She jabbed her finger into Coraline's shoulder. "– That it was best for your life and reputation to just –"

Coraline scoffed. "Mom, you can't keep doing –"

"Actually, Ms. Avery," Michael spoke up, causing the two females to turn, "Coraline asked me to go to the movies with her this evening because she knows I've never gone. I know how much you care about how people view Coraline, and I promise that no one will see us. I even brought a hoodie to disguise myself."

Coraline raised a brow at Michael's cheeky grin. She could hardly breathe as she looked to her mother. It may have been because her jeans were too tight, but she'd think about that another time.

Francesca pursed her lips. "I see," she nodded. "So are you two going on a date?"

The teenagers' eyes met. Coraline bit the inside of her cheek and replied, "Well ..." She slumped her shoulders. "I wouldn't  _call_ it that –"

"And what movie will we be seeing tonight?"

Coraline tried to think of the first film that popped in her head. " _The Purge_ ," she replied quickly. Looking to Michael, she gestured for him to nod. He did as such, with a big smile on his lips.

Francesca's jaw shifted. " _The Purge_ ," she repeated. Her tone reeked of venom and malice, but that didn't scare off Michael's toothy grin. Nothing scared him. "Well, I'm sure you'll  _love_ horror movies, Michael. I assume that your big man  _downstairs_ brought you up on blood and guts and gore –"

" _Mom_ ," Coraline snarled, squeezing Francesca's arm tightly. Michael watched the exchange with wide eyes. "It's not right to assume. Besides, none of that is real anyways."

The mother blinked at her daughter, as if she didn't believe her reply. "The Devil  _is_  real, Coraline," she whispered. "And he's not a little, red man with horns and a tail. He can be beautiful, brought up on the worst of things. You know why? Because he's a fallen angel, and he used to be God's favorite." Her back slouched again, and her lips turned up in a hazy way. "At least that's what the housewives used to tell me."

Coraline's eyes darted from her mother to Michael. "And with that," she replied, lacing her arm through Michael's, "we'll be on our way. Don't meet up. I'll be home late."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is my absolute FAVORITE of Act I!!!!!!


	10. THE PURGE

#### ACT I: YOUNGBLOODS

##### CHAPTER TEN

#####  **__________________________**

**MICHAEL**  was half-tempted to steal the keys to Miriam's car and drive them to the local movie theater, but Coraline refused to get in. He didn't have his license and never drove a day in his life.  _No way_  was she getting in a car with him, and she had no way of driving them either. "The theater is just twenty minutes away," she told him. "We can walk."

Her tight jeans made that difficult, but she still managed to move as fast as she could. The wind blew her dark hair off her shoulders, causing her perfume to fade into the crisp air. Even in November, it was never really  _that_ cold in California. However, Coraline found the thin sweater she was wearing tonight not warm enough. She hugged her arms over her torso as they walked.

Michael stayed silent. He was wearing his usual attire, but also adorned an old, jean jacket and black boots. As they passed a corner on the block, he looked over at Coraline, noticing that she was cold. He frowned and laced his arm through her left. Coraline glanced at him with hesitation, but gladly tightened her hold around his. He was so warm. Coraline thought that he could be the human embodiment of a furnace.

It ended up taking a few minutes longer to get to the theater, and Michael didn't let her forget that. Once they were outside the old, local theater, Michael looked out amongst all the people and bit his lip. He threw up his hood and kept his head down. Coraline didn't think he was  _actually_  going to do it and almost pulled the hood off herself. She decided against it when she thought about how her mother would reprimand her. So she continued to guide him through the theater as he kept staring at his feet, unaware of the teenagers eyeing them with confusion.

She paid for the tickets. (Eleven dollars  _each_.) He paid for the popcorn, like she asked. As Michael approached the food stand, he made sure to keep his head down, even though it was hard for the young cashier to hear any word he said. Coraline stood idly next to him, clasping her hands together.

"I wonder who Coraline Avery is with."

Her ears perked up upon hearing her name. From the corner of her eye, Coraline saw two people looking over at her. The faces looked familiar, but they were probably nobodies, who liked old gossip. Coraline was still a  _somebody_ , despite being an outcast.

"I don't know," the other person said, "but they must have mush for brains to be out with Crazy Coraline."

She bit down on her lip –  _hard_. Her teeth almost threatened to draw blood.  _No_ , she told herself.  _Just ignore them_. Nobodies only talk about somebodies. That's just the way it went.

Michael almost tripped over his own feet as Coraline led them to their seats, all the while he was keeping his eyes trained on the floor. "You can  _look up_ , you know," she tsked, dragging him by his sleeves up the stairs of theater six, where their movie was playing. They were already late for it, so the whole room was dark and he  _clearly_ couldn't see.

"Its okay," he promised, "I got it."

He was holding their sodas. She had the popcorn. One wrong move and he would be spilling that all to the ground.

But they managed to get to their seats without a spillage. Michael ripped his hood off, revealing his scruffy, honey hair, as the title for the movie appeared on the large screen. His eyes went wide at the sight before him. He handed Coraline her large Pepsi and whispered, " _The Purge: Election Year_?" He raised a brow. "What's this about?"

Coraline pinched his cheek with one hand and squeezed. "You'll see, Langdon," she chuckled. A person shushed behind them, and she looked over her shoulder to send them a scowl. She didn't expect to see Amalia Beaumont sitting a row behind with her sister, Heather. The blonde girl raised a single eyebrow as her stare shifted to Michael beside Coraline, happily enjoying the bloody scene unfolding on screen. Coraline simply smiled and turned away.

"You have to be quiet during the movie," she whispered in Michael's ear.

He leaned in. "Got it," he replied. "Just don't put your hand down my pants. This is already good and I don't want to be distracted."

She snorted. Watching that fictional massacre for a full one hour and forty minutes made her realized how much horror movies made her nauseous. Several times, she found herself curling her face into Michael's arm to distract herself. She almost wished he  _had_ wanted her to give him a hand job during the movie. At least then she wouldn't have to watch all the blood and guts. Maybe it was a good thing. She was never good with her hands anyways.

However, Michael seemed ... strange during the movie. He looked almost inspired by it. His expressions reflected awe and amazement at the bright screen. Coraline glanced at him through the corner of her eye many times during the movie, wondering why he looked so ...  _happy_. Blood covered the screen like a blanket. That wasn't exactly a sight to be grinning about, but she guessed he was just excited to see his first movie in a theater. She couldn't blame him.

As the credits began to roll, Coraline blinked her eyes awake. The lights above them turned on. She looked over at Michael, who was gripping the seat in front of him with excitement. "That was  _awesome_ , Coraline!" He exclaimed, tugging his hood back on.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," she chuckled, pulling him up from his seat with her. They exited theater six with the rest of the crowd, and Michael still had his head facing down, refusing to trip. He was getting good at it.

"Wow," Michael said as they walked through the main exit of the building, "imagine if that were  _real_? The Purge, I mean. Think about how many shitty people would be gone!"

Coraline raised a brow, guiding him through the crowd of excited teenagers. "I don't think that's the point of the movie."

Michael rolled his eyes as they made their way down the long street ahead. The sidewalk was slightly wet from the fresh shower that occurred while they were watching the movie. Coraline laced her arm through his and held on firmly, keeping him close. She looked up and asked, "What do  _you_ think the point of it was?"

He took a moment to think about it. "Killing shitty people should be okay?"

"No!" She laughed, holding a hand to her chest. Michael took note that she didn't cover her mouth anymore when she did it. "That's the  _total opposite_  of –"

"HEY!"

The two teenagers turned around. Coraline scrunched her brow at the close distance of the manly voice, but realized the person waiting for them in the darkness was unfamiliar. Just a few feet from them, a hooded teenager stood with his hands in his pockets. She squinted her eyes, trying to recognize the facial features. Coraline didn't know him, but there was no doubt in her mind that she probably went to school with him.  _Just another nobody_.

"Coraline Avery!" The boy called out, beckoning her closer, yet his hands stayed firmly in his pockets.

Coraline glanced to Michael for a moment, who had a grim expression, before turning back to the strange boy. "Do I know you?"

"No, but I know  _you_." He began to stalk forward, causing Coraline's feet to instinctively walk back. "That's what will make this  _better_."

She shook her head once he was a foot away from them. "What are you –?"

"Give me your wallet."

Her eyes fluttered. " _What_?"

"I said, ' _Give me your wallet_.'"

Before she could scream a rebuttal, Michael moved in front of her, shooting an arm out to shield her. " _Who_  are you?" He seethed through clenched teeth. "Go away, you vile human."

Coraline swallowed hard at Michael's choice of words, but when she looked back at the unknown boy, she felt nothing but fear. Michael was tall, but this guy was twice his size, with dark curls covered by his hood and a plump nose. Michael's arm was firm and he refused to move it away from Coraline as the other male inched forward.

"Give me the damn wallet!" He demanded. " _Now_!"

Michael was staring daggers at him. Coraline took a step away, but then the other boy's hand shot out, grasping her arm over Michael's. His grip was rough and firm, hardly giving away when she pulled back. He was trying to reach in her back pocket for her wallet. Coraline's fear was sky-rocketing and her breathing was jagged. She wished her visions had shown her this. If they were such a gift, weren't they supposed to  _help_ her?

Suddenly, Michael shoved the boy off, causing him to fall to the ground. The unfamiliar boy stood up immediately. Nothing could fight him off. She saw the lights of the movie theater in the far distance. Coraline's only answer was for them to run. He couldn't possibly outrun them while he was tired.

But then the impossible happened.

Michael raised one arm and slowly formed his hand into a fist. Without warning, flames shot out from the sidewalk, right underneath the dark-haired boy before them. Coraline tripped back, but Michael made sure to shield her away from the severe heat. The boy's screams echoed into the sky as fire licked at his clothes, burning his flesh to the pavement. Coraline's mouth fell open. No shriek could emerge. Michael's hand was still out, shaking as he continued to hold the fist in place. Coraline looked from his hand to the burning man before him. A scream was clogged in her throat.

With a flick of his wrist, Michael snapped his fingers. The boy's head exploded.

Coraline shut her eyes. Crimson dotted her face and clothes. The boy's body fell to the ground and his severed head rolled to her feet. The pavement was coated in warm blood.

She heaved suddenly, unable to breathe. Coraline looked to Michael. His hand was at his side now, and he was staring at the corpse in front of them with a sense of seriousness that she'd never seen before. His lip curled slightly as he collapsed to the sidewalk.

Coraline tried catching him in her arms, but failed miserably. She did her best to drag him away from the blood covering the ground, hauling him a block down. She kept her eyes trained on the murder. Crimson liquid flowed off the sidewalk and into a street drain. Coraline swallowed hard, blinking away a tear forming in her eyes.

" _Michael_ ," she called, kneeling before him and hitting his face. "Hey, Michael. Wake up.  _Wake up_." She propped him up against a dumpster. Her hands roamed his cheeks, wondering if the mere touch of her fingers could spark something in his brain.

She was right. Michael's eyes fluttered open. He immediately looked to the murder on their left, and he grinned big. Chuckling softly, he placed a hand on her face and rubbed away the blood that stained her skin.

Coraline's mouth wobbled. "H – How ..." She shook her head. The words, _Chosen One_ ,flashed across her vision, forming a collage.

"So it worked," he muttered, turning to look at the corpse again. "Are you okay?"

How could he be talking like everything was  _normal_? He just  _killed_ someone out of thin air. Coraline pursed her lips with hesitation.

She could only form one response: "What the fuck was  _that_?"

"I saved us," he replied, "from the scary man. He was going to hurt us to get your wallet, so I hurt him."

"You  _killed_ him," she corrected. "You killed that guy. Do you  _understand_ that?!"

Michael looked down at his black sweatshirt. The dark color hid stains so easily. Miriam wouldn't suspect a thing. He casually viewed back to Coraline's shocked expression. "I understand." He paused, lips forming into a thin line. "Do  _you_ understand why I did it?"

Coraline bit her tongue, trying to keep herself calm as she thought over his words. "Yeah, yeah. I understand. We just ..." She quickly glanced back to the body. Guilt swelled in her gut. "We have to get out of here before someone sees us. I have blood all over my  _white_ sweater."

She pulled him to his feet. He shook his whole body and tsked, "No one will notice anyways. People will just think you decided to dress up to see  _the Purge_."

Before Coraline could fire back a snappy remark, a local bus began to slow to a stop ahead of them. Bus 12 usually stopped at the end of her street. She immediately tugged Michael forward, looking over her shoulder at the damage they caused. Blood was starting to flow into the street, covering the entire drain. A breath hitched in her throat.

The bus stopped at an intersection by the end of the street. Coraline sprinted forward and pounded her fist against the doors. The driver reluctantly opened them as Coraline threw a five-dollar bill at him, which he collected gratefully. She tugged Michael through the rows of plastic seats and realized that he had been right. No one looked twice at the teens with red spots covering their clothes. She felt like she was in an alternate reality.

They sat down in an uncomfortable pair of bright blue seats. As soon as Coraline's butt hit the plastic, she released a heavy sigh. She had the window seat, allowing her to watch the bus ride along the deserted streets of their California county. Coraline dared not to look back at the murder scene. She wondered if they would be caught, even though neither of them touched the severed boy.

Michael's arm was laced through her own. He put his hood on and laid his head on her shoulder. The trees became blurs while the bus continued its route. As Michael closed his eyes, Coraline rubbed at the blood drying on her face. She bit her lip with hesitation, feeling his hold on her tighten. He had so much trust in her in so little time. It made her feel loved, but also nervous.

The Chosen One wasn't supposed to make friends. Who decided that she was capable of breaking that?


	11. 2017 BONNIE AND CLYDE

#### ACT I: YOUNGBLOODS

##### CHAPTER ELEVEN

#####  **__________________________**

**CORALINE**  almost didn't believe Michael when he told her that Miriam always left the front door unlocked. "Who's gonna break into a Satanist's house, anyways?" He asked, shrugging lazily.

They approached the door carefully. Coraline noticed the paint was cracking off of it. Michael's arm was hanging around her shoulders as she dragged him along. He was walking like he was ...  _drained_ , somehow. She had to help him up the front steps of his house, even though she  _didn't_  have the muscles to lift the tall boy. Twisting the gold knob, she was still surprised when the door opened for her.

Everything was dark. She could hardly see anything as they walked in, and Michael closed the door behind them. Coraline shook her phone, causing the flashlight to turn on for her. She was sure that Michael was fine, that he could definitely get into the house on his own. However, something inside of her filled with worry. Judging by the way he  _killed someone_ to protect them tonight, she knew he was some powerful, almighty,  _fuckin_ ' "Chosen One" guy, who certainly didn't need the help of a small girl with weird visions of the future. But even the mightiest needed help getting up their own staircase sometimes.

They walked up the stairs at their own pace. Once they reached the top, Coraline tugged on his shirt, a signal for them to start tip-toeing. His room was just off the stairs and a few feet away was Miriam's. Her door was sealed shut. "She locks it so I can't disturb her sleep," Michael whispered. "I tend to bother her a lot when I have bad dreams."

Coraline quickly tip-toed over to his bedroom and locked the door once he was inside. A wave of heat hit her suddenly. Her nose felt oily upon impact. She wiped the sweat off her hands, watching Michael rub at his eyes sleepily. "Okay, you're good,  _right_?" She asked. "I can just slip out the front door and no one will find out I was here."

Michael collapsed onto his bed, legs hanging off the side. Coraline's eyes widened. For a split second, she actually wondered  _if_  he died. But then his hand twitched as she ran forward, causing her to groan in an annoyed tone. Lifting his whole body onto the bed, she muttered, " _God_ , it's like caring for a child."

She kneeled in front of his mattress, and eventually, began to brush blonde strands away from his forehead. A thin coat of sweat formed on her own temple. She felt a scar behind his ear, but didn't question it. At that moment, she didn't really focus on anything else. Her eyes were glued to Michael's face, and she wondered how someone could look so angelic while they slept, hours after they killed someone with a snap of their fingers. Coraline concluded then that he was probably the most beautiful boy she'd ever seen.

She released a heavy sigh and stood up. "Are you  _actually_ asleep?"

Michael cracked one eye open. "Not quite."

Coraline rolled her eyes, taking a moment to look around his room for a thermostat. "Its so fucking hot in here, Michael," she muttered and searched the walls for a small, circular sensor. "Do you like living in the pits of hell?"

"That's the plan."

There was no thermostat,  _of course_. She spun on her heel and say goodbye, but found him basically  _naked_ in his bed already, laying on top of his black sheets and snuggling closer to his pillow. He was only wearing a pair of plaid boxers, causing Coraline to wonder how he changed so quickly. " _What_  –?" She covered her eyes. "You could've told me you changed!"

Michael didn't answer. He simply hummed a reply and curled his long legs together.

Coraline's lips parted. She walked forward, as if gravity was pulling her to him, and whispered, "Well, I'm gonna go home. My mom's probably already in bed, but if I'm not there once she wakes up in the morning –"

His hand shot out, grasping her own. Coraline's whole body vibrated at his touch and she watched his eyes open with concern. Michael looked down at their conjoined hands, brow furrowing, and she wondered if he was questioning  _why_ he made that sudden action. His thumb moved in circles over her skin. The invisible threads squeezed them together.

"Can you stay?" He asked, meeting her stare.

She raised a brow. "I thought you didn't know what a hook up was."

"I still don't," he laughed softly. "But whatever you're thinking surely isn't the same as what I'm thinking."

"Um –" She paused, debating her options. His mattress was large, almost built for two. Coraline hadn't slept in a boy's bed since ... well, since she lost her virginity to Nate Ashworth last year, and even  _then_ he kicked her out of the house after an hour because his parents would kill him if they saw her there. It hadn't been a delightful experience whatsoever. To this day, Nate hadn't told anyone what happened, in fear people would find out he fucked "Crazy Coraline."

But this wasn't that same situation. As Michael continued to hold her small hand, she knew he just wanted her  _there_. For what reason, she didn't know.

Coraline watched a few beads of sweat run down his bare torso, and she exhaled loudly. "I guess I can stay for a few hours."

"Okay, okay," Michael grinned. "Fair warning: I might wake you up when I have a nightmare."

He moved over from his spot, but Coraline told him that wasn't necessary. She fanned herself using her hand as she walked over to the other side of the bed and sat down. Kicking off her shoes, she was thankful at that moment that she had a top underneath her sweater. She ripped off the heavy layer, leaving her in a tank and jeans as she laid down.

Coraline wound her hands underneath her head. His pillows were fluffy, and she liked hers to be firm.  _God_ , she chastised,  _why did you agree to this?_ The answer was obvious. She just didn't want to say it.

She heard the mattress squeak under her, and not long after, she felt a pair of arms hang over her torso. Another head laid right near her hair, inhaling her scent. Snores racked from a mouth laying by her ear. She looked down at the large hand that was draped across her midsection and didn't feel an ounce of panic.

Coraline bit her lip, taking Michael's arm and curling it more around her. His snores were loud, yet calming. The sweltering heat in the room made it unable to sleep, but she didn't really care. All Coraline wanted to feel was the warmth of someone's arm around her. She pursed her lips and found her heart skip a beat.

The worst was yet to come, because Coraline feared that she could love Michael Langdon.

#####  **__________________________**

The blood still hadn't come out of Coraline's white sweater. To avoid questions from her mother, she ended up burning it in the living room fireplace. No one would ever suspect a thing.

Days later, Coraline scrolled through Facebook on her phone. She always wondered why she constantly deleted the app and then redownloaded it, but every time she scrolled through it, she was reminded of how annoying people could be online. However, her thumb froze in place upon noticing a specific link on her newsfeed. One of her former friends shared a news article, responding to it with a casual,  _R.I.P. JOSHUA HART_. Coraline bit her lip before finally clicking on the link.

It was about the murder.  _Their murder_.

She swallowed down the bile rising in her throat, remembering the blood she now had on her hands. Except ... she really  _didn't_. For starters, she hadn't been the one who killed Josh,  _technically_. She was just a witness. A simple witness to a murder. A murder conducted for her safety. It wasn't in vain.

The police hadn't found any evidence on the body. They wouldn't ever, because Michael hardly laid a hand on him. They classified the murder as a suicide, even though they had no proof to suggest that. Coraline guessed that they had to give the grieving family some kind of answer.

As she read on, she began to realize that she  _had_ known Joshua Hart. He used to be part of her former clique, relishing in making others feel bad for their appearances. He knew her before the "episode," and even tried asking her out once. It never happened. Coraline remembered him dropping out of school early last year, but none of them knew why. They soon found out that Josh had turned to drugs, and the rest was history. Out of all things, he hadn't died from an overdose. He died from fucking with the Chosen One, whatever  _that_  meant.

"What are you looking at?"

Coraline was so lost in her thoughts that she forgot Michael was next to her. They laid on the bed casually, dangling their feet over the edge, as her mother sifted through bills to pay downstairs. Big surprise there – Francesca finally stopped trying to meddle in her daughter's social life, and though she didn't exactly approve of having a weird Satanist kid in her house, Coraline told her it was not in her best interest to judge. She might've also threatened to tell the religious housewives around them that Francesca hadn't visited a church in years. That was enough to convince her.

She set the phone down on her chest and muttered, "Nothing." She'd never tell him about the article.  _Ever_.

"I'm really glad we're so close now, Coraline." He paused, looking down at her right hand that laid right near his own. His fingertips hesitantly brushed across the back of her hand as he debated entwining them together. "How have your visions been?'

He had been asking about them all the time now, as if he was waiting for a magical answer to their problems. Out of all things, he never asked about the murder  _or_  their kiss. Neither were brought up or referred to, like they never existed. Coraline wondered if they were  _together_ -together, or just the 2017 version of Bonnie and Clyde.

"Um ..." Coraline frowned, twiddling her thumbs. She grabbed a pillow and put it under her head for comfort. "Well, for months its been this weird continuation of visions. Like, whenever one comes to me, it just resumes from the last one."

Michael raised a brow. "What are they about?"

"I don't know. It's all really confusing," she sighed. "It looks like the scene of a dance, but all I can hear is screaming, and I just ... I have no idea. It would be nice if these visions could be a little clearer sometimes."

"Huh," he mumbled, and Coraline could tell a question was hanging off his tongue. It was like he planted the seed for her.

She sat up, leaning on her elbow. "What do you mean, 'Huh?'"

"I'm just thinking ..." His voice trailed off. Coraline's curious stare urged him to continue on. Michael parted his lips, sat up, and crossed his legs. "Okay, hear me out on this one," he said, laying his hands on his thighs. "Have you ever thought of ... using your visions for something?"

"Is this you giving me a speech on how I should be 'using my powers for good?'" She snorted. "Because if you are, I think you might be reading too many Spider-Man comics."

Michael chuckled. "No, no," he said. "Well,  _maybe_ I am. I'm just  _saying_  ... You told me that your visions revolve around some pretty dark things, like murder and trauma. What if you ..." His lips curled into a smile. "What if  _we_ used them to help others?"

He had her attention then. Coraline's eyes grew wide as she thought about the question. "How could I even do  _that_?" She asked cynically. "How could  _we_ do that? No one wants our help. People think I'm crazy. Who's gonna want help from a false-diagnosed schizophrenic?"

"No one has to know," he replied, as if it were  _so_   _obvious_. "You just have to remember the people you saw in past visions, like murderers and assaulters who haven't committed the crime yet. The internet is powerful and teenagers are smarter than ever because of technology. We can figure out who the people are and stop the crimes before they happen in the future. Can you imagine how much we will be  _helping_ people?"

Coraline chewed on the edge of her fingernail. It was almost gone from nervously biting. "Stop the crimes  _how_?"

Michael grinned. "By any means necessary."

#####  **__________________________**

Coraline often wondered what prison was like. Michael told her it was silly to think things like that. He often said this while wiping blood off his hands.

When Coraline agreed to his ideas of "helping the community," she didn't expect them to immediately get into action. They spent a week trying to search the depths of her mind and recall past visions. It took hours of research to find the identities of the cruel humans in her visions, but luckily, most of the people were local. The anticipation of murder made Michael excited. He would bounce his leg enthusiastically while roaming the internet for any information on the subjects, as Coraline brushed her fingers through his hair.

It was nice to have someone who understood; someone other than Miriam. He finally had someone loyal to his hungry heart.

So that was what led Coraline to where she was now: behind a dumpster with gravel on her hands. Orange and yellow reflected in her eyes. Michael grinned big on her left, snaking a long arm around her shoulders as the rapist tried putting out the flames that engulfed him. The fire licked at his skin, kissing and burning every part of his flesh. Michael thought the show was taking too long. With a snap of his fingers, the flaming man disintegrated into ash.

His name was J.D. Crowley. Months from now, he would be convicted of sexually assaulting several underage girls from a high school softball team he coached. The vision told her he'd get away with thirty years in jail. The two teenagers didn't think that was good enough. It wasn't hard to find him, seeing as he got high every night behind the abandoned corner store. They wanted to end him before it could ever happen.

Coraline blinked as they were engulfed in darkness. Weirdly enough, she hadn't thought twice upon seeing J.D. die. Now that she'd seen death firsthand, she was almost not afraid of it anymore. Maybe she was just glad to be using her visions for good. Michael had been right. She should've been doing this all along, except she could've never committed a murder like this by herself.

Michael flexed his cramped hands. "It always amazes me what I can do with these fingers. Being the Chosen One has it's upsides." He looked over at her, smirking devilishly. "I've never liked getting my hands dirty."

"He deserved it anyway," Coraline whispered, narrowing her eyes at the pile of ash before them. The wind picked her hair up and off her shoulders as she grabbed his hand that lay on her shoulder. "Because of us, we're saving dozens of girls from future trauma. We're, like, totally the good guys in this situation." She smiled proudly. "Can you believe it? Murder being used for  _good_?"

" _Totally_ ," Michael grinned her way. Coraline was almost tempted to kiss his lips. "What do we do now?"

Coraline frowned at the pile of ash that was once a man. She felt so accomplished. They deserved a medal of honor for this shit. The visions weren't useless anymore.  _She_ wasn't useless anymore. There were bigger plans for her.

Eventually, she shrugged at his question. "Wanna get ice cream? There's a place right down the street."

He smiled excitedly. Coraline took his hand without thinking, but Michael was the one who laced their fingers together. Sticking a headphone jack into her phone, she placed one earbud in Michael's ear and the other in her own. She turned the music up on blast and the two teenagers clumsily danced their way to the local ice cream parlor. Michael swung their hands in the air, enjoying the music as she sang loudly to it. Coraline had made him this playlist, filled with her favorite modern songs to equip Michael with the latest pop culture. She named it:  _CORALINE AND MICHAEL'S JAMMIN' JAMS_.

Coraline used her free hand to mimic the beat of Taylor Swift's,  _Getaway Car_. She turned to Michael, pretending that there was a microphone in her hand, and sang theatrically in his ears. It wasn't good singing whatsoever, but it made Michael happy. He laughed harder than ever before, as if everything was okay. As if the most important thing right now was seeing Coraline Avery happy. As if they hadn't just tracked down and killed a future rapist.

She didn't regret cutting two kids in line at the ice cream parlor. Coraline wanted her banana split and was willing to do  _anything_ for it. She handed the bored teenagers at the counter her money as they placed the big sundae plate in her hands. Michael had been sitting at a long wooden table as she ordered, twiddling his fingers. He liked the way the parlor was decorated outside and decided they should sit under the pink fairy lights strung across the establishment.

The banana split plate clattered onto the table. Michael looked up, noticing Coraline's excited expression, and found his own face lighting up. She threw him a spoon as he said, "I could've gotten money from Miriam and paid for it."

"Shut up and eat," Coraline said with a roll of her eyes. She sliced a piece of banana with her spoon and combined it with a spoonful of strawberry ice cream. She shoved it in her mouth, savoring the sweetness.

Michael had never tried a banana split before. His favorite dessert involved anything chocolate. He hesitated, taking a little bit of everything on his spoon. Coraline gestured for him to continue eating. With a quick shrug, Michael placed the ice cream in his mouth and was shocked at how cold it was. Miriam never let him have ice cream because he liked the hot. Michael held a hand over his mouth and sent Coraline a wide-eyed stare.

"What?" She asked, taking a piece of whipped cream on her finger. "You don't like it?"

He finally swallowed, surprised that he liked the flavor. "No, I – I just didn't expect it to be cold."

Coraline tried not to laugh, but she couldn't keep it in. She released a string of giggles, and Michael followed with some of his own. Coraline looked to her finger again, tempted to lick off the whipped cream, but decided she had a better idea.

She reached out quickly and smudged the whipped cream over Michael's nose. His mouth dropped, and then his expression changed. The ends of his lips pulled upward as he dipped his own finger in some chocolate syrup and rubbed it on both sides of her face. Before Coraline could retort, he grabbed more syrup and smeared it on her pointed nose.

"How dare  _you_?!" She laughed. Her giggles were so loud that other patrons were staring at them, and for  _once_ , it wasn't because she was Coraline Avery and he was the Satanist neighbor that she shouldn't be friends with. She released a few hiccups when her laughter died down, and then stared at him with a soft smile. She hadn't felt happiness like this in a long time; not even with her old friends.

"Hey, Coraline?"

She blinked, forgetting how long she had been lost in her own thoughts. After picking up a napkin, she began to wipe off the sticky chocolate from her skin. Coraline handed Michael one and replied, "Yeah?"

His mouth was in a firm line as he debated what to say. Coraline waited with a raised brow. "Is this ..." He bit his tongue. "Are we on a second date? Is this how dating works?"

She wanted to tell him that sharing a banana split after committing a murder wasn't usually how dates went, but instead, Coraline managed a sweet grin. "I don't know, Michael," she answered, placing another spoonful of ice cream in her mouth. "What do you think?"

Michael responded with a smirk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you guys want to listen to the playlist Coraline made for Michael, as well as the playlist for the entire story, check out my Spotify, @stxrmborn!!!! Or through this link to my account: https://open.spotify.com/user/7fsoarg4t5h4e9148u7v1qy8c?si=KlXnJosmRs-g3KzdpeXSXw


	12. PRINCESS SIGN UPS

#### ACT I: YOUNGBLOODS

##### CHAPTER TWELVE

#####  **__________________________**

**WITH**  each kill they made, Coraline felt more guilt. She told herself that this was okay; that they were doing something  _good_. Maybe they were, but the humanitarian inside of her couldn't excuse murder for good. Well, she  _technically_ wasn't doing the killing. She was an accomplice. Was there truly blood on her hands?

Yes, there was. There  _definitely_ was. But she refused to admit it to herself. Coraline continued to justify the crimes as much as she could. It was becoming harder as the number continued to rise. By the end of November, they had killed two rapists, one pedophile, and three serial killers.

"It's just our own better version of  _the Purge_ ," Michael assured once. "You know, for us good guys."

He didn't get it, which made Coraline ask herself who was more psychotic out of the two of them. In Michael's mind, this was all for Coraline's happiness, so she could use her visions for something worthwhile. He burnt people to the ground. He turned others to ash. He made brains explode from the inside out. Michael killed these horrible humans for Coraline, to show her the kind of love and loyalty she deserved. It was his way of honoring her. Coraline would never understand that.

The members of board game club were the only people who truly recognized her friendship with Michael, and for that, she was grateful, despite Greg's disapproval. Eloise was happy that Coraline found someone else who understood her, and Billy ... well, Billy just thought Michael was cooler than all of them combined. Greg, on the other hand, would constantly use his big brain to remind Coraline "how bad this relationship would end if people found out." Coraline would normally roll her eyes and tell him that he was being overdramatic. "Hardly anyone here knows what he looks like anyways," she'd argue. "We're fine."

Amongst all the news of murders occurring around town, Coraline Avery was chosen as top student of her class in November. Even rebellious murderers can keep up with their good grades if they really tried. Everyone was talking about her again, forgetting the local killings that were happening almost once or twice a week. Her school picture was posted on the main bulletin board near the entrance of school, serving as a constant reminder that she was front page news. Crazy Coraline was rising to the top once more.

People were looking at her again, but not with terror or pity. They were staring at her with admiration. Besides the geek squad, who thought she didn't deserve to be put on a pedestal yet again. But here Coraline was: top student of the month, preventer of future crimes to come, and – according to Michael Langdon – _a prophet_. What else could she ask for? Maybe someone did have big plans for her. This was only the  _beginning_.

She broke apart from Eloise as her friend headed to her own class. Eloise was enjoying the newfound attention to, seeing as she was Coraline's closest friend at school. Coraline adjusted the straps of her backpack and walked to her American History classroom, taking note of her former clique staring at her with  _actual fucking_   _wonder_. Turning her head to the side, she saw her face on another bulletin board, amongst the chaos of flyers and job listings. She approached the board while eyeing one paper in particular.

_WINTER BALL PRINCESS SIGNUPS!_

Coraline stared at the flyer with an eyebrow raised. She had already been planning to attend the Winter Ball as a rebellious statement for labeled psychotics around the world, but ... she hadn't thought about Winter Ball Princess. Now that her reputation was rising again, signing up Winter Ball Princess didn't seem like such a bad thing. It could even be the first step to becoming Prom Queen.

The flyer was lined with snowflakes and white sparkles, with six spots available for applicants. Only two lines had names on them. The first was Quinn Merrick, leader of the Mathletes and Coraline's current enemy. The second Coraline's picture went up for top student, she was on Quinn's hit list. Quinn Merrick had been top student for five straight months and wasn't ready for anyone to take her crown. Upon seeing her name on the signup list, it seemed to Coraline that she was looking for a new crown to wear.

The second name was Heather Beaumont, Amalia's twin sister. Coraline never knew Heather well, even though they had been in the same clique. When she had been better friends with Amalia, the blonde girl would go on hideous rants about how shitty Heather treated everyone around her. Heather wanted everything, and she'd do anything to get it. Amalia used to insinuate that Heather was jealous of Coraline, and once she fell off the top of the social pyramid, Coraline guessed that might've been the best day of Heather's life. It was the best time for her to go after the things she wanted, Winter Ball Princess included.

A ballpoint pen hung right near the flyer. Coraline debated on picking it up and writing her name down. She hesitated for a moment. The old Coraline wouldn't have. She would've immediately written her name at the top of the flyer, not bothering to follow the lines, just because she wanted to be the first name written down.

"Be careful. Heather will put up a good fight."

Coraline heard the voice on her right and turned. Amalia Beaumont leaned against the bulletin board, slinging her blue messenger bag over her shoulder. Coraline looked over her shoulder at her former friends, who were staring at Amalia with confusion. She finally glanced back to the blonde girl and shrugged.

"Nothing I haven't handled before," she replied.

Amalia smiled softly. "Right, right. I remember when you beat my sister for Spring Fling Queen two years ago and Heather almost ran on stage to rip the flower crown off your head." She giggled at the memory, and Coraline silently wondered just  _why_ Amalia Beaumont was talking to her now.

The blonde's eyes shifted to the Winter Ball flyer again. "So," she continued, "do you think you'll win?"

Coraline pursed her lips. "I don't even know if I'm going to do it." She lifted her chin, questioning if Amalia was suddenly challenging her. "Are you going to run?"

"No, definitely not," Amalia replied, waving her hands around. "Not my scene." She paused and tilted her head to the side. "If I'm being frank, I don't think it's your scene either, Coraline. You've always been better than these things."

The other girl blinked. Amalia stepped back with a smile and waved delicately. "I gotta get to class. It was nice talking to you." She spun on the heel of her pretty sandal, but looked over her shoulder once she was two feet away. "Oh, by the way, congrats on winning student of the month. You deserve it more than that mathlete stuck-up."

Coraline waved with a confused expression. She watched Amalia walk away with Nate Ashworth, who tried linking an arm around her shoulders, but she shoved it right off. Coraline swallowed hard and looked back at the Winter Ball Princess flyer. Her conversation with Amalia made it easy to walk away.

#####  **__________________________**

Shane McMannen was the county's local heroin dealer, responsible for many deaths around town. It was his main job. On the side, he charged patrons four dollars for a water bottle and put liquid butter on popcorn at the old movie theater. But again – just a side job. Most nights, he would meet his customers in the back alley, right behind the theater, and give them their weekly – or even  _daily_ – supplies.

Coraline liked to think he was a serial killer. Everyone always had their suspicions about the twenty-year-old theater employee, but there was zero evidence to back it up. Coraline used to write about her first visions in a locked journal, and once she went through them with Michael, she found the exact evidence she needed. During the summer, she had a vision of Shane's regular dealing, except he was handing heroin to an old friend from middle school she recognized – Harry Briggs. She immediately went to the internet after reading this journal entry, just to find anything on the state of Harry now. However, there was wasnt't any stories, because Harry Briggs was  _dead_. From an  _overdose_.

That's what happened to all of Shane's customers. He'd keep providing until they died, and then he'd move onto the next person. He didn't care about the people he was murdering. He didn't care about the families he was ruining. All he cared about was money. For that, he deserved retribution. "Like the disgusting excuse for a human he is," Michael had said.

They cornered him on a usual night of work. Coraline had to wait until Francesca was asleep before slipping out of the house with Michael and waiting for the theater to close for the night. Once every light was off, Shane stepped outside the back door and looked around. A dim streetlight glinted above his head. Michael and Coraline hid in the shadows, watching him light up a cigarette as he waited for his customer. Coraline glanced to the boy next to her. His bright eyes were so clear, even in the darkness. She gestured for him to go with the plan.

Michael walked further into the alley, allowing the orange light to finally shine down on him. Coraline lingered a foot away from him and noticed Shane jump back once he saw them. "I'm waiting for someone. Who are you two?" He asked, squinting his eyes at Michael, and then to Coraline. He leaned back for a moment. "Hey, do I know you?"

He probably did. Shane had been a senior in high school when Coraline was a freshman. When she became uber popular in sophomore year and he started community college, she remembered him continuously sliding into her DMs, even though his explicit words to her were  _highly illegal_.

Michael narrowed his eyes towards Shane. "Who are you waiting for?"

"That's none of your fucking business, buddy," Shane replied, walking forward to be at Michael's eye level. "Get the fuck out of here."

"I will when you ..." Michael chewed his bottom lip, looking at Coraline from the corner of his eye. She stepped forward, but he held her back. "I will when you get out of my face."

Shane laughed mockingly. He was an inch from Michael. They stood at the same height. Shane's cigarette blew smoke in Michael's nose. Coraline swallowed hard, reaching out to intervene, but Michael wouldn't allow it.

"I said, ' _Get out of my face_.'" Michael repeated, suddenly shoving Shane back. This wasn't a normal shove, though. With the power coursing through him, Michael pushed Shane back by several feet, causing his spine to hit the brick wall with an unmeasurable force. Coraline heard the wind pass by her ears within seconds.

Shane held the wall as if his life depended on it. His teeth chattered, hands trying to hold himself up as he stared at Michael and Coraline with pure terror. He made sure the cigarette was still dangling from his mouth. Michael didn't give him another moment to speak. Using his right hand, he waved two fingers in Shane's direction, causing the cigarette in his mouth to shrivel up. The cigarette then delved into Shane's mouth, sinking deep within his jugular, before it immediately caught aflame.

Coraline watched Shane open his mouth and begin to choke. He breathed fire. Flames flew from his throat, coloring his insides a mixture of yellow and orange. He heaved and heaved, but there was no use. Blood seeped from his eyes. It was a sight out of a  _Saw_  movie, and Coraline fought the urge to look away.

Michael moved his hand in horizontal direction, waving it back and forth. Within a second, Shane's neck snapped. A huge crack sound echoed in the wind. He fell onto the ground, hitting the pile of trash bags littered by the theater's back door.

Coraline chewed on the inside of her cheek, watching the blood dry on Shane's face. His mouth hung open as he sunk further into the trash bag pile. She then walked forward and kicked his leg with her boot. No response. "Dead," she whispered, pulling up her hood when the wind picked up.

Michael appeared by her side. "I did good, right?"

He was grinning down at her, and she reflected the same expression. His smile was always contagious and full of excitement. She felt his hand brush her own, but before he could move away, Coraline laced their fingers together. Michael's lips parted at the gesture, and he squeezed her hand in his.

"WHAT THE  _FUCK_?"

Coraline knew that voice. She stared straight ahead, unable to move to check if her suspicions were correct. The familiar sound of heeled sandals was the only thing she could focus one. She didn't even hear Michael whisper to her, "Coraline, what's going on?"

Amalia Beaumont. She found them.

Coraline didn't have a moment to think. Before Michael could utter another word, she was tugging on his arm, dragging him down the dark alleyway. She ran faster than ever before, almost slipping on the gravel from the fresh rain that poured an hour ago. Her breathing was irregular. Her grip on Michael was rigid. He didn't question any of it; he just followed her.

In the distance, she heard Amalia yelling, followed by the screams of others. "Someone call nine-one-one!" She ordered as a crowd gathered. "SOMEONE CALL THE  _FUCKING_  COPS!"

No finger prints. No evidence. All of it was done by magic, and it was  _well-deserved_. But Coraline would remember Amalia's shrieks forever.


	13. DANGEROUS GAMES

#### ACT I: YOUNGBLOODS

##### CHAPTER THIRTEEN

#####  **__________________________**

**AMALIA**  Beaumont hadn't been to school in days.

Coraline wondered if she knew. Well, obviously, she couldn't have, since the police hadn't arrived at Coraline's door, or even Michael's. She was probably just spooked. Seeing a dead body in front of your very eyes was a troubling experience. For Coraline, however, it had become normal. But she understood Amalia's fear, and questioned if she'd ever come back. She had to.

"She told me that she saw two people kill him with ... magic."

Coraline's ears perked up at the voice. She had been heading to board game club that Wednesday afternoon, but after hearing Heather Beaumont's snarky tone, her feet suddenly stopped in place. Heather passed by her, heels clicking against the linoleum floors, with Nate Ashworth at her side. Coraline stared at them with narrowed eyes, already knowing that they were talking about Amalia.

Nate shrugged at Heather's statement. "She's gone crazy," he replied. "Magic doesn't exist."

Coraline swallowed hard. She was telling people that she saw magic. Amalia believed two people used  _magic_ to kill Shane McMannen. Coraline's blood ran cold. The claim was hard to believe. No one would believe her, and that was a good thing for both Coraline and Michael. But for some reason, it made her feel sad.

" _Obviously_ ," Heather rolled her eyes. She then glanced to her right, spotting Coraline's glare from across the hall. "What are  _you_  looking at?"

Scoffing under her breath, Coraline turned on her heel and walked away. She didn't have time for Heather's wrath. She was getting everything back finally, and Heather would soon reach her downfall once again.  _It's only a matter of time_ , she thought to herself, eyeing her student of the month portrait on a bulletin board.

She shoved open the door to the old teacher's lounge, sighing once she saw Greg shuffling a deck of cards on the table. They were beginning to play more card games than board games lately, which kind of defeated the purpose of  _board game club_ , but she wasn't going to start complaining to the only people who took her in when she was ridiculed.

They were playing poker today, which was Billy's all-time favorite card game. He led the game that day, placing a stack in front of each member and schooling them on his old school version of poker. Eloise was confused with his rules, but she began to understand after a while. She hated not being in the know.

As each of them turned in their first round of bets – all of which were small change – Greg bit his lip and fiddled with his cards. "So," he cleared his throat, "have you guys been keeping up with the murders around town?"

Billy looked up, annoyed that Greg would bring up a topic like that during his favorite game. "Really? We're gonna talk about that  _now_?"

"It's a valid question!"

Eloise looked through her deck and placed her cards down, deciding to fold. "It's starting to look really bad. Did you hear that Amalia Beaumont witnessed one of them happen? She said that she saw two people do it, except ... not with their hands." She frowned. "My mom's not letting me go out past seven anymore. She's scared that something might happen."

Greg turned. "What are your thoughts, Cor?"

Coraline blinked, completely lost in her own thoughts. She had been staring at her deck of cards, yet she wasn't really paying attention to them. All she heard was her friends talking about the murders, and her mind swam with questions. She straightened her back and asked, "What?"

Billy raised a brow. "Greg asked you about the murders."

"Oh, I – um –" She shook her head, unable to form a coherent response. "It's ... pretty scary."

The statement came out like a question, causing all the club members to share a worried glance. Greg straightened his back and ran a hand through his fluffy, brown hair. "You okay today, Cora?" He asked with concern. "You seem ... out of it."

"There's just a lot going on right now, and I ..." Her voice trailed off, and she shrugged to end the reply.

"Yeah, guys. She's just stressed." Eloise smiled and nudged her friend. "She is top student of the month,  _after all_."

Greg rolled his eyes. "I'm just saying," he continued, "we should all be aware of what's happening and try to be safe. If we lose a member of this group, then we become even more limited to the games we can play." Greg looked to his cards again, releasing a soft chuckle at his own joke. "That goes for your Satanist boyfriend too, Cor. Hopefully, he knows what's going on."

_He does_ , she wanted to say.  _God, he does_.

But instead, Coraline muttered, "His name is  _Michael_." She exhaled heavily and sat back in her chair, setting down her cards. "And I fold."

#####  **__________________________**

Coraline hadn't planned on going out that night, which was clearly evident from the pajamas she immediately put on once she got home. But when Michael Langdon showed up at her window, begging her to come have dinner at his house that night, it seemed like her lazy evening was out of the question. Truthfully, she didn't  _want_  to go. What was the point anyways? To  _formally_  and  _officially_  meet his guardian? God, the thought made her sick to her stomach.

_Wait_ , she thought,  _is this some "meeting the parents" dinner? Are we_ seriously _doing that?_  She didn't want to ask him.

She promised to be ready in ten minutes. She lied. It took her twenty minutes to get ready. Coraline made sure her hair was in soft, pretty waves, and that she wore one her conservative outfits, which consisted of jeans and a henley shirt. She smudged lip gloss across her mouth and slipped on her favorite sneakers. Looking in the mirror, she sighed. Why was she trying so hard for a dumb dinner?

As Coraline descended the stairs with her pleather purse slinging across her shoulder, Francesca shut the door behind her, tearing off her gold hoops in the process. She kicked off her shoes and noticed her daughter halting on the last step. Francesca looked her up and pointed her long nose in the air. "Now, where do you think you're going, lady?"

Coraline pursed her lips. "Out."

Francesca dropped her bag next to her shoes. "Out  _where_?"

"To Michael Langdon's house," she replied quickly, sprinting to the front door. "Don't wait up, please."

"Hey, hey, hey!" Francesca yanked on her daughter's arm. "I just got home from a terrible day at work and you leave?  _God forbid_ , I actually want some quality time with my daughter after being puked on by a guest's child, and she  _leaves_."

Coraline's brow creased. "Mom, don't start with the bullshitting."

" _Bullshitting_?" Francesca scoffed. "I am  _not_ –"

"You're asking me not to go out because you want to spend time with me, but you really just don't want me to go see Michael." She placed a hand on the doorknob. " _Right_?"

The mother rolled her eyes. "So what if I do?" She implored, pinching Coraline's cheeks. "So what if I want  _the best_ for you?"

Coraline tapped her foot against the hardwood. Even when her mother agreed to stop doing this, she was always known to go back on her word.

Francesca sighed in an annoyed tone. "What if someone sees you?"

"No one will," she persuaded. "There's leftovers in the fridge that you can heat on the stove. Just let me go." Coraline bit her lip. "I think this might be ...  _important_."

"Fine, fine. Go," the mother waved her off. Coraline grinned big. "Sure, leave your lonely mother to fend for herself, against the dark forces that plague the house a few blocks down. Leave her with –"

The front door shut suddenly, leaving Coraline to chuckle at her mother's monologue. She proceeded to cautiously walk down her front steps, waiting to round the corner of her house, when she stopped in her tracks. Michael was waiting for her, waving a gentle hand in her direction. Coraline released a calming breath.  _There's nothing to be worried about_ , she told herself.

They walked down the street in silence. Coraline's arm was laced through his as he guided her away from her safe space. When they finally approached the lawn of his small abode, everything felt more real. Moths flew around the porch light, and Coraline spotted the neon green lawn chair still in its place. "Should I be nervous?" She asked, suddenly turning to him. "Because I  _think_  I am. I don't know. It's hard to tell what's scary anymore after you've witnessed death."

Michael laughed. "I don't think you should be nervous. My Ms. Mead would never harm anyone I care about."

_Anyone I care about_ , Coraline repeated in her head. The words almost made her woozy as she entered the house behind Michael. He took her hand and gave it a squeeze, trying to calm her nerves. It didn't exactly help.

If anyone should be nervous in this situation, it was  _him_. He knew Miriam had no authority over him  _technically_ , but she was still raising him, and he didn't want to think about the one woman who loved him to disapprove of someone he cared for. Michael wondered if he would love Coraline the same way he loved Ms. Mead someday.

He guided her through the small living room and into the kitchen. Coraline took note of the ancient TV set with crooked antennas situated in front of a big window. A ratty, blue couch was placed on the other end, highlighted by the fireplace she noticed the first time she was in his house. The framed portrait of that demon-looking creature was still staring at her, following her every move.

She stopped suddenly once they reached the kitchen. A Satanic shrine was hung in the back of the dining table. Cinnamon-scented candles were placed around the room, but they didn't outweigh the delicious smell of honey-glazed chicken in the oven. Coraline eyed pots of different sizes littering the stove top, and she wondered what lied inside. The scents swirling around the kitchen were mouthwatering. Coraline's stereotypical side half-expected Miriam to force a pig's foot down her throat.

"Ms. Mead," Michael called in a sing-song voice. The stout women cranking the buttons on the stove turned around suddenly.

Miriam Mead was more terrifying up close. Coraline didn't remember ever being this close to her. She almost had the same color eyes as Michael, except hers were more grey, and they were always judgmental when they looked Coraline's way. Her black hair was styled in a slicked-back, short cut. Her wrinkled mouth formed into a thin line, which was coated in a dark purple lipstick. Coraline licked her own glossy lips, unsure if she should say something.

Michael swallowed hard as his guardian just stared at the two. All Miriam could see was Coraline's eyes over Michael's shoulder. "Well," she called to Coraline, "come over, child."

Coraline glanced to Michael for a moment, and then finally moved to his side. Miriam looked her up and down. The younger girl wondered if she was evaluating her.

"Ms. Mead," Michael cleared his throat, "this is Coraline Avery. She's my – um ..." He tilted his head to the side, trying to think of a term. Coraline shrugged when he looked to her for help.

Miriam raised a brow and crossed her arms over her chest. " _Girlfriend_?"

"Uh ..." Coraline wrinkled her nose. "I guess we can go with that for now."

Miriam laughed in a mocking tone, turning back to the stove to open it. The scent of glazed chicken put Coraline at ease again, despite her uncomfortable stature. Michael was staring at her with a raised brow, causing Coraline to shrug again. She mouthed,  _What was I supposed to say?_

"Sit down, children," Miriam ordered, pulling the chicken out of the oven. "Dinner is served." She looked over her shoulder and sent Coraline a critical glance. "And don't worry, dear. We do cook it all the way through."

Coraline narrowed her eyes. She couldn't believe this woman was outright assuming that Coraline was thinking that. Well, maybe she  _had_ been, but that didn't give Miriam the right to assume. Michael nudged her elbow to stop her from staring, and casually grabbed her hand to lead her to the circular table.

Miriam laid heaps of food onto the table in different colored bowls. Coraline could tell they normally ate for just two, seeing as they didn't have another dining chair and had to grab a lawn chair for her to sit in. Miriam placed a hand on Michael's shoulder as she made her way to a chair, reminding him to say grace. Michael sighed, but quickly gestured for everyone to clasped their hands together. Coraline, with a puzzled expression, did as he asked.

"Bless us, Dark Lord, for these thy gifts which we are about to receive from thy infernal bounty, through the power of Lucifer Eternal." He bobbed his head. " _Nema_."

Coraline hardly said a word and slowly unclasped her hands. Michael instantly dug in once he noticed the bowl of corn on the table. He told Coraline that buttered corn was the only vegetable he'd eat willingly.

"How did you two meet?" Miriam asked in a suspicious tone.

Coraline looked up from her plate, chewing a piece of glazed chicken. Michael handed over a bowl of garlic noodles to her. She sighed, scooping contents from the bowl onto her plate, "Well –"

"I already  _told_ you, Miriam," Michael tsked gleefully and waved his fork at the guardian. He spoke while chewing on corn. "We met outside the house.  _Remember_ , you were there? I told you about this months ago."

"Has it really been that long?" She asked, reaching out and pinching Michael's cheek.

Miriam then turned to glare at Coraline, causing the younger girl to look back down at her plate. She chewed on her food quickly, as if she was in a hurry to leave. Truthfully, she  _was_. Coraline could still feel Miriam's stare on her and tried her best to ignore it. At that moment, she debated on saying she felt sick and leaving.

"Coraline," Miriam called, and the brunette cautiously lifted her head. "What is your business being friends with my Michael? I thought I made it clear to the both of you that being friends isn't ideal. You're just simply not like  _us_ , Coraline." She huffed and placed a forkful of chicken in her mouth. "But alas, Michael never listens to me anyways."

Michael narrowed his eyes. " _Miriam_  –"

"Don't use that harsh tone with me,  _boy_ ," she spat, pointing at him with her fork. "You know what I asked. You know what I said."

His mouth scrunched up. "But  _you_ have no –"

"Hey, hey," Coraline muttered, putting up her hands. "No need to argue. My mother kept telling me it wasn't ideal either, but ... I don't know. Teenagers are usually inclined to acts of rebellion. There are entire studies behind it." She waved her fork around and chewed. "Just wanted to offer some perspective."

Miriam learned away and narrowed her gaze, contemplating Coraline's words. A few minutes of silence passed between everyone. All Coraline could hear was the sounds of utensils scraping against porcelain plates, which she noticed were lined with red.

"So," Miriam started again, wiping her mouth as she finished her dinner, "Michael tells me you're a prophet, correct?"

Coraline spat out the last piece of chicken from her plate. The chewed-up chicken flew across the table and landed on the kitchen counter, sitting in a mixture of spit and leftover butter. She held a hand to her chest and looked at Michael with surprise. " _Why_  did you tell her?" She whispered, not bothering to be inconspicuous.

"She  _had_  to know!" Michael whispered back in the same tone. He straightened his back, smiling falsely towards Miriam. "I told Ms. Mead of your gift because it was  _important_ , and she says it could be beneficial for our Lord's plan."

Coraline brow creased at his voice. He was talking to her like  _she_ was the child when he usually spoke that way. For once, he sounded like an eighteen-year-old. " _Your Lord's plan_?" She repeated. "I have to focus on graduating high school. I don't have time for  _some plan_."

"So are you a prophet or not?"

Coraline turned her head at Miriam's question. Her eyes shifted for a moment to the lone piece of chewed-up chicken on the counter. "Well," she exhaled heavily and wiped her mouth. "I guess I am. I don't know." She shrugged. "That's what Michael claims me to be. I can ... I can see visions of the future, and we've been using it for good."

Michael nodded his chin quickly in agreement. His face lit up with a huge grin.

"For  _good_?" Miriam raised a brow before leaning back in her chair and scoffing under her breath. She then turned to Michael and smiled lovingly. "Dear, can you please put our plates in the sink and take out the trash?"

" _Seriously_?" He frowned. "Can't I just do it later?"

Miriam's smile twitched.

"Guess I'll do it now."

Coraline's eyes went wide as Michael stood. He  _couldn't_ leave her here with Miriam. Surely, the woman was planning to eat her alive. She was trying to tell him to sit back down with her stare, but he didn't look forward. He simply went on with his chores and took their clean plates. After placing them in the sink, Michael tugged the full trash bag out of the can, tied the bag, and dragged it outside. Coraline heard the door click shut as Miriam turned to her with a serious expression.

"I hope you know what you're dealing with," she whispered.

Coraline nodded. "Ah,  _there_  it is," she muttered. "You're trying to have one of those one-on-one talks with me. It was pretty obvious to Michael, you know."

Her joke didn't crack Miriam's frown. "Are you listening to me,  _girl_? I don't know what you plan on doing with  _my boy_  –"

"We're just going out on a few dates." Coraline was shocked that she used the last word without thinking about it.

"Michael doesn't  _do_  dating!" Miriam continued in a harsh whisper, as if someone was listening. "He has never had a friend your age, so what makes you think dating would work out? This is a  _dangerous_  game you're playing, missy. It could hurt both of you if you two get too close.  _I_ would know." She huffed as Coraline narrowed her eyes. "You're canoodling with the  _Chosen One_."

Coraline released a snort. " _Canoodling_?"

"You get what I mean," Miriam snapped. "I'm just warning you. He's our Chosen One, and whatever you two are doing together won't change your destinies."

Coraline's face twisted.  _Your destinies_? Why was Miriam involving her in that statement? Regardless of her confusion, Coraline crossed her arms over her chest. "Michael and I are doing good things. You need to let us think for ourselves."

Miriam refused to comment. She simply shook her head at the naïve, teenaged girl in front of her. Coraline was through with being talked down to by adults. She stood from the neon lawn chair and stomped her way to the front door, calling to Michael outside, "Hey, need any help? You've been taking a long time out here!"

The door shut again. Miriam shook her head and rubbed at her temples. Teenagers would surely be the death of her. Remembering her lord's scripts was the only way she could keep herself centered, but she kept reflecting on a passage that she'd like to ignore in that moment. It was stuck in her brain, repeating over and over again as she stood from her chair and watched Michael and Coraline laugh together on the front lawn.

_The Unholy Trinity represents all that will usher in the End of Times_ , the scripts foretold.  _It consists of our Dark Lord, the Antichrist (or the Beast), and the False Prophet. Deception, hatred, and unadulterated evil will lay in their wake. They will bring the End and rebuild the world together – but only if they are united through the bonding ceremony._

Miriam watched Michael drop the trash bag to the ground and hug his friend tightly. Coraline pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. The sight made Miriam want to vomit.

She shook her head and groaned, "And so, the Beast found his False Prophet. Go figure."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are fiNALLY getting to the meat of this fic, my friends!!! Just wanted to mention that I mean no disrespect to any religion-related stuff in this chapter (or the whole book, for that matter). I'm not from a very religious family so I don't know much about it, but I've tried to do a great deal of research for this fic! If I depict anything wrong or offend anyone, I apologize, but the religious themes and titles in this story are REALLY important to Michael and Coraline's dynamic/destiny.


	14. BATSHIT

#### ACT I: YOUNGBLOODS

##### CHAPTER FOURTEEN

#####  **__________________________**

**CORALINE**  had been grateful that Michael's presence got her out of the awkward and demeaning conversation with his guardian. So grateful that she offered him a hand job –  _again_.

They were in his bedroom with the door locked. Coraline already had a plan in mind as she clicked the door shut, but wasn't expecting a negative reaction from Michael once she offered. She promised that it was the least she could do for the moment. Michael had waved her away, "No, no! Why do you always ask things like that?"

"I don't know," Coraline had shrugged. "It was expected of me with other boys I've been with, so I guess I just assumed that you'd be the same way."

Michael frowned, tilting his head to the side. He put his hands in his pockets and replied, "You're not an object, Coraline. Don't let others expect things of you. Always be in control of your life." He then grinned big. "That's what Miriam taught me."

Those words stayed with her throughout the weekend. As Coraline laid awake at night, she kept thinking them over.  _You're not an object_. Boys these days didn't say things like that. They expected the most and gave so little. Girls were presumed to do anything they asked, which mostly involved their dicks and a pair of glossy lips. Michael wasn't like that.  _No_  – he wasn't like  _any of them_. Maybe it was because he was older. However, he was only older than her by a year, and most seniors were eighteen anyways. She once thought of him as a child, but truthfully, he had an old soul.

Come Monday morning, Coraline realized how much her life had changed because of Michael Langdon. Maybe there was a shift in the air; maybe it was the breakfast she ate that morning, but her mindset was different. Sure, it would be nice to win prom queen and be envied by everyone once again, but the presence of Michael Langdon made those things seem so minuscule. He wasn't her Satanist neighbor. He wasn't a bad person. He wasn't just her friend. Michael was important to Coraline's life. She just didn't know the real reason yet.

 _Wait_. There actually  _was_  a shift in the air.

As Coraline neared the entrance of her high school, she noticed the large group of students loitering outside. They were whispering in hushed tones, but they weren't looking at her. Crazy Coraline wasn't the talk of the school. It was someone different. She raised a brow and continued inside.

Whispers continued in the clogged hallways. Coraline adjusted her backpack and walked to her locker, but found her feet stopping in place. Several flyers were placed in a collage on a locker –  _Amalia Beaumont's locker_.

They were all taped in a cluster, printed on bright, yellow paper. Her face was plastered on each of them, with a pair of bat wings drawn behind her head. Coraline blinked and walked forward cautiously. The neon color of the paper was almost blinding. She picked one of the flyers off the locker, staring at the words circling around Amalia's face.

_"THEY KILLED HIM WITH MAGIC!" BATSHIT BEAUMONT STRIKES AGAIN!_

Coraline's mouth dropped. She thought the rumors about her last year had been bad. Whipping her head around, Coraline noticed that other people were waving the flyers around in their hands.  _This is insane_ , she thought to herself.  _This can't be real_.

When she looked to her right, Coraline finally saw Amalia, standing just a few feet away. Shock covered her face. Her mouth was wide open, a shriek logged in her throat. She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. How could this happen to her – out of all people? Just over Coraline's shoulder, Amalia saw her step-sister, Heather, smirking beside Nate Ashworth. The sight made her want to throw up, and she was tempted to just so the nurse would let her leave.

Coraline stepped forward. She wanted to help, or just do  _something_ to make this all better, even though that was impossible. The damage was done. Crazy Coraline and Batshit Beaumont would remain as staples in their high school's history.

Amalia sprinted forward, staring at her face displayed across her locker, which was usually covered with blue, felt stickers. She ripped down one of the flyers. Then another. And then  _another_. She kept ripping until she felt one of her gel nails snap on the ground. She didn't pick it up. Amalia tore every last flyer off her locker, and then spun around to face everyone. Tears stained her rosy cheeks.

"GET AWAY FROM ME!" She shrieked, turning her head to eye everyone. "ALL OF YOU!  _ALL OF YOU_!"

Coraline slowly backed away. She looked down at the yellow flyers now littering the ground. Some were split in two. Batshit Beaumont struck again.

#####  **__________________________**

The flyers weren't just on her locker. They appeared in random places: the cafeteria, one of the science labs, a few vending machines. By nine AM, all were taken down, but that didn't stop the damage they caused. Amalia quit the cheerleading team, leaving the head cheerleader position to her sister. Yet another title Heather Beaumont wanted and received.

It wasn't a secret that Heather did it, probably with the help of Nate. (Sometimes, people referred to him as Heather's very own Quasimodo.) Heather outright admitted to the deed in front of everyone. She wanted them all to know who not to mess with.

In true Heather fashion, she stood up on her seat at lunch and announced her crime with a huge grin on her face. Amalia wasn't there. Everyone assumed she was eating lunch in the bathroom. But Coraline Avery sat at her lonely table, watching the speech unfold.

People first spoke of Michael like he was the devil himself, but that couldn't be farther from the truth. Heather Beaumont was the embodiment of pure evil.

Amalia's reputation was ruined – just in the blink of an eye. All because she went to the police about what she saw that night in the alley. All because she actually told the  _truth_.

Coraline left lunch early to search for Amalia in the first-floor girls' bathroom. Sure enough, she was right where everyone expected her to be. Sniffling echoed across the silent bathroom as Coraline stepped inside, but ceased once her sneakers squeaked against the wet floor. "Amalia?" She called out.

No answer. She walked further inside, spotting a pair of white Adidas underneath the last stall. With a tight frown, Coraline knocked on the stall door. "Amalia," she repeated, "I know you're in there."

"Occupied!" Even with the sniffles, she tried to keep her voice perky and pleasant.

"Don't you want to actually eat lunch today?" Coraline continued. "Unless you like drinking toilet water now."

Amalia exhaled heavily. "I'm good."

"You probably already know," she informed, "but your sister just confessed to everyone that she did the dirty deed. I don't think she was trying to hide it, though."

Silence.

Coraline knocked her fist on the door again. "You alive?"

"I know she did it," Amalia scoffed. "I was telling the truth. I know what I saw. But now  _I'm_  labeled as the psycho. I knew no one would believe me when I went to the police, but I just –"

Coraline pinched the bridge of her nose. "Well, I believe you."

Amalia paused. Coraline was tempted to hit on the door again as the blonde girl asked, " _Why_?" She sniffled again. "Why would you believe me? I stopped being your friend after your manic breakdown. I was one of the people who went along with calling you, 'Crazy Coraline.' I agreed with Heather that you were a psycho."

Leaning her head on the stall door, Coraline licked her lips. The fluorescent light above her flickered in a weird way, distracting her for a moment. "That's why," she finally replied. "Because I know how it feels when people don't believe you. Remember, I  _am_ Crazy Coraline." She chuckled under her breath. "Hey, think of it this way: you don't have to talk to those shitty people anymore."

"I don't have  _anyone_ anymore!"

The outburst caused Coraline to straighten her back. She bit her lip hard, remembering a time when she had the same thoughts too. A time when she'd rather be six feet under. A time before she found the outcasts of board game club in the abandoned teacher's lounge.

"Hey," Coraline said, "on Tuesday and Wednesday afternoons I meet up with my friends for this dumb board game club. Well, no – it isn't dumb. It's actually really fun, and the people are nice. You should come."

No response. Instead, Amalia stepped up from where she sat on the toilet, slung her backpack over her shoulders, and opened the stall door. Coraline first noticed how red her eyes were. She remembered just last week when she heard people talking about how they wish they had her blue eyes.

Amalia shifted uncomfortably in place, but allowed a small smile to tug at her lips. "Thank you," she replied. "I'd like that a lot."

Coraline nodded her head, keeping her arms pinned to her sides. Amalia's grin got bigger as she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Coraline tightly. The other girl was frozen for a moment, debating what to do. She smiled then, and slowly hugged Amalia Beaumont back.

"Us psychos gotta stick together," Coraline muttered, patting the blonde's back.

Amalia only chuckled in response.

#####  **__________________________**

"I have to confess something."

Coraline looked up suddenly. She finished off a piece of gooey cheese pizza with her legs crossed in front of her. Michael sat before her on the bed, holding his own slice as he wrapped a comforter around his shoulders. A large cheese pizza separated them, causing a distance that Coraline didn't want, but she kept it there regardless.

As Michael bit his lip in hesitation, Coraline expected the worst. She was grateful then that she locked her door. Her mother was downstairs getting ready for work, but  _God knows_  that she would be listening in if she had the time. She had even ordered them this pizza for dinner just so she could linger around the corner of Coraline's room, waiting for the delivery boy to arrive. Once Coraline threw a pillow at her, Francesca walked away, trying to keep her curious thoughts at bay.

"I may have done something bad," he muttered, pulling an object out of his hoodie. "But it could be for good. I have a great idea."

He handed her one of her old journals that they had been referencing for the past couple of weeks. She had two of them. All small, composition notebooks, used for bulleting lists, but Coraline detailed most of her visions within the tint pages, starting from the beginning. She stopped writing them down after a while. It got too strenuous.

"Did you take this?" Coraline asked, tossing it over in her hands. She hadn't noticed that it was missing until now.

"Just to read at my house." He shrugged. "I was curious."

Coraline didn't like that he had taken the journal and not told her, but she guessed she could let it slide. They were in this together, after all. She just didn't understand why he chose not to ask for it.

"Turn to page six," he said, causing Coraline to flip through the ratty notebook. "Careful of the spine. It's falling apart."

Coraline cleared her throat and skimmed the page. Her handwriting was such a scribbly mess that she could hardly understand. This one page described a vision she had a month after the first. It was about a teacher that once worked at her high school, Ms. Scarlett, she believed was her name. She witnessed all the dirty details of Ms. Scarlett's intimate relationship with her eighteen-year-old American History student, and it disgusted Coraline to the very core. How could she use her authority like that over one of her students? The fact that Coraline had to be burdened with this kind of knowledge troubled her, and she was thankful that a week later, Ms. Scarlett suspiciously resigned from her position at the school. Word around town was that she went to rehab for a sex addiction.

"Gross,  _right_?" Michael asked, eating the rest of his pizza slice.

"Uh – yeah," Coraline licked her lips and closed the journal. "I remember all of this. It was really unsettling." She tossed the journal back to him, which landed on his lap. "Why are you mentioning this one in particular? It's a pretty old vision."

Michael raised his brow, opening the notebook again and jabbing his finger onto page six. "Did we not read the same thing? I know it's not a crime that hasn't happened yet and it's fairly old, but this woman doesn't  _deserve_  to live, Coraline. What she did was disgusting. She did –"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Coraline exclaimed, interrupting his righteous speech. "That  _isn't_ part of the plan, Michael. We agreed to stop crimes that haven't happened yet. This is too far." She swallowed, watching Michael's brow crease with irritation. "Besides, Ms. Scarlett admitted herself into rehab after this, apparently for a sex addiction. She's getting help. This is something to be left in the past."

Michael was clearly annoyed. His facial expression said it all. Coraline was worried then, wondering if they were truly doing good things. Maybe she was overthinking, but sometimes it seemed like they weren't on the same page. Sometimes it seemed ... that Michael simply liked  _killing people_. She watched the joy flash across his eyes as people crumbled to their deaths before him. They were conducting the real-life Purge, except Michael didn't need to wear a mask with a creepy grin. His face said it all.

However, Coraline Avery was naïve to her own paranoia about the sunshine boy with blonde waves and a lopsided smile. He was a beautiful, remarkable boy – someone who didn't get much credit, but was obviously destined for greatness. She was completely melted in his presence. Paranoia was all it was. Just  _paranoia_.

After a moment of hesitation, Coraline moved the pizza box to the floor, allowing their knees to touch. One of her legs curled around his, while her other hung off the side of the mattress. The close proximity of their skin already caused the electric threads to pull them together. Coraline slowly reached out and placed her hand on his cheek. His skin was so soft and hot –  _scorching hot_. He told her once that he bathed in the flames of hellfire every night. Right now, she believed him.

"Maybe we should just ..." She sighed longingly. "Maybe we should stop this."

Michael's brow shot up. "Stop  _dating_?"

Coraline shook her head, noticing how quickly his irritation turned into worry. "No, no," she said. "We should stop this plan. You know, killing for good karma. Just for a while."

He pursed his lips, but eventually nodded. Coraline went to drop her hand from his cheek, but Michael suddenly gripped it, holding her cold fingers to his skin once again. It made his stomach do flip-flops. He'd never felt things like this before. It was like a new feeling emerged every time they were together.

"You had me scared for a moment," he chuckled quietly. The sound brought a small smile to Coraline's lips. "I don't want to lose you, Coraline."

 _Remarkable_ , she thought to herself.  _A remarkable boy. The Chosen One. Destined for greatness._

Coraline pressed her lips to his for a mere moment, but that was all Michael needed. That was all they would ever need. Because in that moment, with the threads wrapping around them, love felt real. Even if they didn't know it yet. Even if red flags had just been going off in Coraline's head a minute ago.


	15. DAUGHTER DEAREST

#### ACT I: YOUNGBLOODS

##### CHAPTER FIFTEEN

#####  **__________________________**

**MICHAEL**  almost didn't believe what Coraline was asking.

"I know it's super last minute," she apologized, pressing her back against her closet door. "But my school's Winter Ball is next week and I  _can't_  just show up without a date. I've been banking on this dance since senior year started as a way to secure my position as a possible prom queen." Pushing herself off the door, Coraline rubbed her hands together nervously. "I need to graduate this school as a somebody, Michael, which means planning ahead to win prom queen. I won't let all these people remember me as a psycho. I just  _won't_."

He sat on her green comforter and looked to his hands. Her reasons seemed justified, in a true Coraline fashion. He knew that she was kind and didn't judge others anymore, but this was one of those moments when she decided to be superficial. He didn't hate her for it – in fact, he  _admired_  that she was so determined to gain power again. He just hoped they didn't lose each other in the process.

"Are you sure you want  _me_  to go with you?" Michael asked, quirking a brow upward. "If this ...  _Winter Ball_ is so important, isn't it a bad idea to bring the town's local Satanist?"

Coraline smirked, walking forward and clutching his large hand. Her fingers curled over his own while her thumb caressed his palm, allowing her icy temperature to meet his warmth. "Fuck 'em," she whispered, leaning down to brush her lips against his own, but refusing to seal it.

Michael liked kissing Coraline – he  _really_  liked it. It sent his blood pumping and made every hair on his arm stand up. And when she baited him with a kiss, it made him annoyed. He watched her lean away with a frown. He had never wanted to kiss anyone before, but her cherry lip gloss always tasted really sweet and he liked the way she made butterflies invade his stomach.

"You look nervous," she glowered. "It doesn't bother me if someone recognizes you. As long as I'm there and showing myself off, I won't let anyone give you shit." He was still frowning towards her, causing her to sigh. "If you're that anxious about someone noticing you, why don't you just wear a disguise?"

Michael's jaw shifted. "A  _disguise_?"

"C'mon," she said, pulling him to his feet. Coraline shoved him down in the seat in front of her lit-up vanity mirror. "You already wear all black, and I'm guessing you would be doing the same for the dance. So why not make you look like – uh – I don't know ... an extra member of My Chemical Romance?"

He narrowed his eyes with confusion as she searched through the makeup covering her vanity. Sifting through eyeshadow palettes, she found the big one that she was looking for, and noticed his perplexed expression when she turned. "Just go with it," she scoffed.

Michael looked down at the warm-colored shadows pressed into the palette. They were both eyeing the same shade in particular. Their stares met, and Coraline smirked. "You like the red?" He nodded at her question, and she dipped her finger into the shadow. Normally, she would grab a brush, but couldn't find her case at the moment. Bright pigment covered her finger as she reached forward, smudging the red in the inner corners of his eyes. Michael twitched slightly.

Coraline debated on covering his whole lid with red, but decided against it. The inner corner shadow was weird, but she was kind of into it. "Keep your eyes shut," she murmured. Spinning him to face the mirror again, Coraline sat on his lap and hooked an arm around his neck. "Okay," she squealed, "open your eyes."

Michael opened one eye, and then another. He turned his head the side, viewing all angles. He liked the red. It was a tad bit ridiculous, but he liked the mystery behind it. He chuckled then, glancing to Coraline's happy expression as she sat in his lap. "See?" She asked. "It's like you have an  _entirely new identity_."

"You're the funniest person I know, Coraline." Michael giggled, brushing her hair off her shoulder, electricity flowing in his touch. "It makes me look mysterious, like those people who wear masks in  _the Purge_."

"So ... is that a yes?" Coraline's nose was inches from his. She smiled from ear to ear and Michael felt himself swallow down a lump in his throat. "That you'll come with me?"

Michael looked back at himself in the mirror. If he went to this dance, he would be around the people she went to school with. These were the same people who hurt her after she had her first vision in public. These people made her an outcast. They made her constantly overthink if her actions made her look crazy or not. He would be right in the center of the student body who ruined her. A side of Michael's mouth twitched upward. What could he do to help her?

"I guess I can make it." He glanced back to her face and smiled. Her eyes lit up with enthusiasm. "This is a pretty good disguise. I might just wear it."

She grabbed his chin with one hand and turned it back to the mirror, pressing the side of her round face against his sharp cheekbone. Coraline grinned at their expressions in the mirror, as her other hand still hung around his shoulder, rubbing circles into his black t-shirt. "Everyone's going to think you're  _so cool_. Even Greg, though he won't admit it." She watched his eyes slide to hers in the mirror. "With you also in a black suit – oh,  _shit_. It's going to look so good with my purple dress!"

Coraline jumped off his lap and sprinted towards her closet. She began to fling clothes to the floor as she searched for her dress. It was in the depths of her dress rack, and she struggled with pulling the hanger off. In the background, she heard Michael clear his throat and say, "Hey, Coraline?"

She finally yanked on the hanger, muttering, "Yeah?"

"Are all the mean people who shunned you going to be at this Winter Ball?"

Coraline spun around, holding the dress limply in front of her. She raised a brow and watched Michael rub away the red eyeshadow with a makeup wipe. She wet her lips, walking closer to the mirror again. "Uh – yeah, they probably are. Anyone who's anyone is going to be there." He turned in the chair to face her as she hung her dress on a coat hanger. " _Why_  are you asking me that?"

"Just wanted to know who to look out for," he shrugged.

"Michael," she frowned, "are you keeping something from me?"

He giggled, and it was so  _innocent_. "That's silly."

" _Is it_?" Coraline crossed her arms over her chest. "As silly as taking one of my vision journals without telling me? As silly as –"

"Are you mad at me?"

Her heart softened as she stared at him. He sat low in the chair while she stood above him. It reminded her of the power dynamic between them the first time they met. She pursed his lips and said, "No, I'm not mad." She grabbed his hand and raked her hair out of her face. "I guess I was just ... freaking out. I promise I'm not mad."

The alarms were sounding off in her head again, causing her ears to ring, but she ignored them. All she cared about was the warmth Michael's hand gave, as if he were her own personal space heater. She wondered if he ever got cold.

"I'm worried about one more thing, Coraline," he whispered. He had been eyeing their conjoined hands, but eventually lifted his stare. Michael pondered how Coraline Avery could make grey eyes look pretty. "I can't dance."

"You can't  _dance_?!" She exclaimed, immediately tugging him to his feet. Michael almost stumbled back, but Coraline successfully caught him, pulling him close to her chest. "I have to teach you!"

She reached over the vanity for her phone, all the while Michael's arms limply hung around her. Just the simplest of touches caused the threads to wrap, dragging them closer to each other. Coraline scrolled through her music, eventually landing on an old song her mother used to sing to her at bedtime. She threw her phone back down on the vanity as the upbeat tempo of Bruce Springsteen's, "Hungry Heart," blasted from her tiny speaker.

Coraline grinned up at him. "Put one hand here," she instructed, placing his right hand on her shoulder. "And then give me your other." He slapped the left hand down on her palm, and she gripped it tightly. "This is a pretty happy song, right? It's different than slow dancing, which is basically just swaying in place. So we're just going to ..." She bit her lip before they began to tilt back and forth, Coraline leading him in two different directions.

Their chuckles filled the air. Coraline certainly wasn't a dancer and her instructions showed that, but Michael didn't care. He simply liked being with her, and holding her hand. The dimples in her freckled cheeks made him want to kiss her again. Her happy expression was contagious, and that was scared him.

Coraline rocked them back and forth, giggling ferociously. Her speakers raged on:  _Everybody's got a hungry heart!_  She leaned up, brushing her nose against his own, and Michael felt like his ribcage was going to explode from his chest. These feelings were terrifying; they weren't supposed to be there, but they were and he wasn't keen on stopping them, whether he was the Chosen One or not. Miriam couldn't stop them.

A knock sounded from behind them. Coraline immediately looked over her shoulder, spotting her mother from a crack in the doorway. She let go of Michael's hands quickly –  _too quickly_ for his liking – and shut off the music.

" _Hey_ ," Coraline barked in a whisper. "I thought I asked you to  _stop_  lingering by –"

"I wasn't lingering,  _dear daughter_." Francesca smirked and adjusted her work blouse. Coraline's gaze went down, noticing how her mother had opened up her shirt a bit more.

Cocking a brow upward, Coraline was tempted to ask just  _why_ Francesca decided today was the day to be promiscuous at work, but her thoughts were interrupted by her mother. "Someone is here to visit you. You should come downstairs."

"Visit  _me_?" Coraline looked back at Michael for a moment. "I'm busy," she replied, eyes still lingering on the blonde boy. "Can you tell them that I can –"

"Coraline," her mother interrupted, expression growing serious. Coraline had only seen this emotion once before in her childhood, and she hoped to whatever God was out there that this didn't have to do with her father. "This is important."

Coraline's jaw shifted. "Mom, I'm –"

"Francesca, can you just let me see her?"

The door opened wider, revealing the body of a man she hadn't seen in years. Jacob Avery sent his daughter that same charismatic smile, leaning against the doorframe of her bedroom in one of his expensive suits. His hair was long, but still elegant, and he now sported a dark beard on his chin. Coraline's arms fell. Her mind swam with questions. This  _wasn't_  real.

"Hi, Coraline," her father greeted. "Can we talk?"

#####  **__________________________**

Michael almost killed Jacob the second he tried laying a hand on Coraline. Yes, he knew he was her father, but he also remembered the story Coraline told him. He remembered how her father left them with nothing, for someone else that Coraline assumed was much younger and unmarried. Jacob Avery sent a bomb off in Michael, one that he found hard to control. Coraline urged Michael to go home and think about suits to rent. Michael wanted to criticize her for thinking that during this time he would be looking for tuxes, but he left her house without a word.

Coraline wished her visions had warned her about this.  _God_ , she wished they had. If she knew, she would've figured a way out of the house that day, anything to get her away from her father's visit. It wasn't like the visions were exactly helping her lately, anyways. All she had been seeing recently were black eyes, highlighted by a disco ball. She wanted this continuation vision to  _end_.

Jacob sat at the head of the dining table, where he used to sit every night for dinner. He had hung his suit jacket on the back of the chair as Francesca poured him a glass of red wine. He originally asked for a beer, causing Francesca to retort, "We no longer keep beer in this house. Not since you left."

Coraline had her arms crossed over her chest as she took the seat at the other end of the table. She tapped her foot against the hardwood floor, already impatient. She watched her father swirl the wine in his glass and sip it, savoring the flavor. Clearing his throat, he said, "That boyfriend of yours sure is a spitfire, Cor. Looked like he was gonna tear my head off from just staring at me."

_You have no idea_ , Coraline thought to herself.

"His name is  _Michael_ ," she replied, feeling her mother's presence from behind her chair. Coraline's mouth scrunched up as Jacob nodded. "Why are you here?"

Her father laughed nervously. "Can't I miss my daughter?"

"Not after you left."

Jacob parted his lips, glancing to Francesca, who had her hands on her hips. His eyes raked down her body, taking in her work uniform that clung to her in all the places he used to love. He swallowed hard and asked her, "Shouldn't you be going to work? That's what you told me when I arrived."

"Work can wait," Francesca grinned falsely.

He sighed, looking back to his daughter at the other end of the table. "Well, I did come here for something important –"

Coraline raised a brow. "And that is?"

Jacob exhaled heavily through his nostrils. "Cor –" He stopped and corrected himself. " _Coraline_ , I do miss you, even if you don't believe it. You're my only kid. I want you in my life again."

"Then why didn't you  _stay_?" She snapped. Francesca quickly put a hand on her shoulder. "If you're gonna leave, then  _leave_. Don't come back."

"Coraline," he shook his head, "you know that's a personal matter."

Her mouth dropped. "That's  _not_  a personal matter, dad! It's about our goddamn family that you  _abandoned_!" She leaned back in her chair, lacing her hands together on the table. " _What_? Did you only come back because word got around that you're only daughter is apparently schizophrenic? What does your new girlfriend think of that? Or your business partners?"

"No, no, no. That's not what any of  _this_  is about!" He smacked his hand on the table. "You're my kid and I  _fucking_ miss you!"

Francesca stepped forward. "Watch your tone, Jacob."

Her father opened his mouth to speak, but then shut it. A sigh escaped his lips and he rubbed at his temples. Coraline knitted her brow at his expression. "This wasn't how I expected this conversation to go," he replied, chuckling sarcastically.

"Well, we didn't expect you to be here," Coraline spat. Her teeth ground together.

"Understandable," Jacob muttered, taking another long sip from his wine. He licked his lips and debated a response. "Look, the bottom line is that I want you in my life again, Coraline. I came here in person to offer you a room at my new house, if you ever want to spend time together again."

Coraline's brow shot up. She really didn't expect that. Glancing to her mother over her shoulder, it looked like she didn't either. Coraline chewed on the inside of her cheek as she turned back to Jacob, who was waiting patiently for an answer. Her hands slipped off the table, and she looked down to her lap, clearing her throat. "Thanks," she said, "but no thanks."

With a quick nod, Coraline pushed out her chair and began to walk away from the table. Jacob looked to Francesca, who was trying to hide a grin, before standing from his seat. "Wait, hey!" Jacob called out, causing his daughter to turn. "Are you  _sure_  –"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure," Coraline replied with a shrug. "I'll let you know what I want for Christmas, but other than that ..." She sent him a cynical smile. " _Don't come back_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is the last chapter of Act I!!!! Then we'll do a little time jump ;---)


	16. THE DARKNESS

#### ACT I: YOUNGBLOODS

##### CHAPTER SIXTEEN

#####  **__________________________**

**IT**  was the night Coraline had been waiting for since the start of the year. An evening  _almost_ as important as prom, but tonight was only the beginning. She had on her new purple dress, her makeup was just the way she wanted it, and she even had her mom curl her hair. However, her hair nowadays hardly held a ringlet, so it decided to hang in loose waves. As she slipped on a pair of ankle boots and a jacket, she turned around in the mirror.

_Tonight is your night_ , she told herself.  _Make it worth it_.

When Michael showed up on her doorstep in an all black suit and red eyeshadow in the corners of his eyes, Francesca's own eyes almost rolled to the back of her head. Even Miriam came with him, despite not enjoying the idea of Michael going to a public school dance. The two guardians took dozens of pictures of their kids together, but made sure to stand as far apart as possible. Michael and Coraline, on the other hand, stayed as close as they could.

Michael had leaned down to her ear as Francesca took one last photo. "You look really pretty," he whispered, straightening his back. "This ball would be nothing without Coraline Rose Avery."

Coraline bit her lip and allowed him to lead her to Miriam's car. Francesca  _really_ didn't want the "Satanist Mama" (as she called her) driving her daughter to the most public school setting to date, but she really didn't have the strength to argue with Coraline anymore. Nevertheless, as she watched Michael hold the door open of his guardian's Subaru Leone for Coraline, Francesca felt a spike of worry. Something was wrong. Something was going to go very wrong. She could just  _feel_ it.

But she said nothing. Francesca saw her daughter wave from the window as the car drove away.

"There's so many people here," Michael muttered as Miriam pulled into the high school parking lot. He sat in the backseat with Coraline, holding her hand tightly as she leaned her weight on him.

Coraline sent a smile his way. "That's how school dances work. You're prepared. No one is gonna say anything."

Michael's lips curled as ideas began to brew in his head, ideas he'd never speak of out loud. Miriam came to a screeching stop near the entrance, turning around to look between Michael and Coraline. "I'll meet you two back here at ten o'clock, okay? Ten o'clock  _sharp_. And then, we'll go home and pretend this never happened."

" _Miriam_ ," Michael called through gritted teeth, "we get it."

"Okay, okay," she sighed, eyes darting to Coraline for a second longer. " _Be safe_."

Michael nodded, opening his door. "Always am."

Coraline waited as Michael came around on the other side and opened her door. As she sat there in complete silence with Miriam, the older woman's dark lips pursed, and she pointed a stern finger at her. The moment Michael opened her door caused Coraline to jump. She composed herself though, whispering to Miriam, "Thank you for the ride," before leaving with Michael.

The sun was just about to set as they made their way towards the entrance. People were raking their eyes over Michael, basically ogling him, as they hardly recognized his appearance. The string lights hanging around the poles highlighted the sharp angles of Michael's face. His black suit wasn't too big and fit in all the right places. He even had on a  _pointed shoe_ , something her dad would wear. Coraline grinned big and laced her arm through his, knowing that she had made the right choice.

Eloise stepped out of nowhere with the biggest smile on her face, waving her arms around excitedly. Her hair was pulled back into a pretty ponytail, and she wore a pastel pink dress that looked like it was designed for only her. Greg walked forward, sticking his hands in his grey dress pants. Judging from pink tie he wore, Coraline assumed that Eloise and Greg had actually come  _together_. Billy, on the hand, seemed to go stag, and he wore a vintage blue suit, probably given to him from his dad. It was so weird not to see him in a hoodie.

"You look beautiful, Cora!" Eloise squealed, bringing her friend into an immediate hug.

Coraline thanked her and giggled. "So are you two here ..." Her voice trailed off, pointing to Eloise and Greg. Both of them blushed a bright red.

"Well, I guess so," Eloise shrugged. "We had no one else to go with, and I knew Greg  _couldn't_  resist my charm."

Greg rolled his eyes, but didn't argue. Billy was feeling the fabric of Michael's suit, causing the blonde boy to raise a brow. "This outfit is  _bomb_ , man," Billy muttered.

Coraline smacked Billy's hand away. "Hey, hey, no touching the merchandise." She then laid out a hand. "What about you, Billy? No date?"

"I'm taking my chances tonight," Billy replied, bobbing his head so his curls bounced. "There has to be some single honey tonight who wants to dance with me. Just watch."

"And I'm sure we'll all be watching," Michael mumbled, earning a laugh from everyone, even Greg.

Coraline hummed a chuckle under her breath and looked over her shoulder. She saw Amalia Beaumont, rolling her eyes at a comment probably made by her sister as they stepped out of the same car together. Despite the fight that went down, Coraline assumed the sisters had to play nice for tonight, just to appease their parents. Amalia's blonde hair looked beautiful in waves and her blue dress matched her eyes perfectly. Blue was Amalia's favorite color. It always suited her.

The two girls' caught each other staring, and both sent a wave in their directions. It felt good to consider Amalia a friend again.

Coraline turned back to her club members, tightening her hold on Michael's arm. "Well, I think it's time to make our debut," she said, gesturing for Billy to lead. With a quick glance in Michael's direction, she found him staring. "Don't be nervous."

As Michael's eyes circled at all the  _bad_   _people_  around him, he realized that he wasn't nervous.  _Not one bit_.

#####  **__________________________**

Believe it or not, Coraline was fond of the multitude of 2000s songs that the DJ was playing tonight. She almost forgot how powerful it felt to sing, "Sweet Caroline," with your classmates, or even Lady Gaga's iconic song, "Just Dance." She felt like a kid again, attending her first school dance.

Coraline tried to involve Michael in as much stuff as she could that night. He didn't seem to budge though, making her believe something was going on as she made her rounds. Despite not running for Winter Ball Princess, she needed to make herself known again amongst the student body. Becoming student of the month was the ultimate booster in her school's social hierarchy. She wished she had known that sooner, but maybe being labeled a psychopath built character.

The decorating committee did a good job. They held the ball in the gym, and everyone tried their best to ignore the smell of dirty socks. Fake snow and snowmen covered various corners of the gymnasium, while blue lights shined down on them. Coraline had never seen snow before and always wondered what it really looked like. This fake snow could never do the real thing justice.

Coraline and Michael walked up to the punch bowl, hoping to wash down the lukewarm lasagna that was served for dinner. Coraline bent down and sniffed the punch bowl. Michael tilted his head and asked, "What are you doing?"

"Checking if it's spiked," she replied, grabbing two solo cups and pouring punch into them. "You know, seeing if someone poured alcohol in it already? Surprisingly, no one has, but the night is still young." She handed Michael a cup full of punch and knocked hers against his own. "Drink up."

Michael leaned back and took a large gulp of the drink. It was so  _sweet_. Sweet like candy. Sweet like Coraline's lip gloss. But this was a sweet he didn't like, and he found that it didn't wash down the lasagna at all.

As Coraline finished her punch in one sip, she immediately recognized "Hungry Heart" by Bruce Springsteen blasting from the DJ's speakers. Coraline flailed her arms around, taking the cup from Michael's hand and exclaiming, "Oh, it's our song, Michael! We  _have_  to dance!"

"I – I –" Michael swallowed hard as Coraline dragged him to the center of dancing couples. "I don't think I can do this in front of  _everyone_ , Coraline."

She tsked, "Of course, you can!" Whirling him around, she had to hold him up as they finally stood face to face. They were in the middle of the dance floor, a bright, blue light shining on them. Coraline noticed how frozen Michael looked, and she almost found it funny how a boy so tall could feel so small. People were staring at them. (Why  _wouldn't_  they?) Coraline scoffed as Michael stood in front of her, as stiff as a board.

"You don't like this song?" She asked, loud enough over the music.

"I just ..." Michael shook his head. "You know I can't dance."

Coraline smiled softly, "Then we can just slow dance."

Now,  _that_ he could do. Slow dancing was easy, even if it looked ridiculous to do it during a happy song. Coraline pulled him close, resting her face on his chest. Michael followed her instructions perfectly, laying his right hand in her left and placing a hand on her waste. The hormonal teenager inside of him caused his hand to twist around her hip, pulling her in tighter. The invisible threads were out again, wrapping them together and causing an electric shock. Bruce Springsteen's voice echoed through Coraline's ears, but all she could hear was Michael's heartbeat.

_Everybody's got a hungry heart! Everybody's got a hungry heart!_

Maybe Bruce Springsteen was right. Everyone  _did_ have a hungry heart, one that yearned for things that were no good for them. In Coraline's case, it was her Satanist neighbor, who everyone told her to stay away from. For an addict, they yearned for their drug of choice. For someone like, let's say – Heather Beaumont, she yearned for more power. Every single person in this world was hungry for something. They all had hungry hearts, and Coraline's wanted Michael Langdon.

_Lay down your money and you play your part! Everybody's got a hungry heart!_

"You want to get out of here?" Michael whispered in Coraline's ear, disrupting her train of thought. She wrinkled her nose in confusion. "I saw a gazebo near the entrance of the school earlier. Maybe I'll be able to finally dance better with no people around."

Coraline chuckled loudly, following him to the exit of the school. She made sure to tell her friends where she was going before she left, realizing that Amalia currently sat at her table, talking to Eloise. Greg had scowled at Coraline, earning a glare back.

As Coraline ushered Michael down the empty halls of the school, the DJ's voice reverberated across the wall, calling all students to the gym so they could announce Winter Ball Princess. Michael kept his hand with Coraline's, moving her forward as they walked. She pointed to wherever her student of the month portrait was posted, which caused Michael to smile at her accomplishments. They both liked to win.

Once they were outside, Coraline's eyes widened at the gazebo Michael was referring to. It was situated amongst the willows guarding the perimeter of the school parking lot. Various fake flowers were entwined with strings lights around the marquee, creating a heavenly atmosphere. Coraline sprinted forward, hopping up on the white floorboard. Her dress fluffed up from under her, but she didn't care as she reached up to pick up a fake flower and put it in her hair.

When she looked back to Michael, she noticed he was hesitating to follow her. Suddenly, her smile began to vanish. She gestured for him to come forward, watching the way he swallowed hard before meeting her under the yellow lights of the marquee. Coraline decided to ignore it. Out of sight. Out of mind. This was her night.

"You didn't bring me out here to dance, did you?" She smirked, standing on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on his lips. Michael placed a hand on her cheek, but kept the other firmly at his side, forming in a fist. Coraline realized how flat his mouth felt, like he didn't enjoy kissing her, even though she knew he  _did_. She leaned away and raised her brow. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing. I swear." Michael shook his head, as if he was trying to convince himself. He looked to his feet with shame.

Coraline opened her mouth to speak, but couldn't find the words. She grabbed Michael's hand and squeezed it. "Well, I can't hear the music anyways, so there's no reason for us to be dancing out here. Let's go back inside."

She walked forward and started to pull on his hand, but he didn't move. Looking over her shoulder, Coraline flipped her hair to the side. She yanked on his hand again. His grip was set. "Michael, quit playing around," she laughed nervously. "Let's go."

He finally lifted his eyes. They were wide and  _blue_  – oh, so blue. "Coraline," he whispered, "we can't go back in the school."

"Why?!" Coraline asked, her tone rising sharply.

Without a hint of regret, Michael turned his head to the school. Across from them was a large window that gave the viewer direct access to the gym. Coraline stared at Michael for a minute longer, watching his mouth curl and his fist clench, before turning to the window.

Chaos. All she saw was chaos. Screams began to erupt from the inside –  _familiar screams_. The screams of students; the screams of faculty. The lights inside were moving around wildly. Windows shattered and sent glass fragments everywhere. Coraline opened her mouth, but didn't say a word. She watched a table suddenly fly across the window and crush a group of people. Blood spewed out, coating the shutter ahead of her.

Coraline shook her head. This couldn't be. No,  _it couldn't_.

But it was before her very eyes. This was her vision. One that she didn't know she could stop.

She didn't even bother to acknowledge Michael's presence as she walked forward, entering the parking lot once again. She wanted to release a string of words, but nothing emerged. Her chest heaved with exhaustion at the sight of chaos. She could hardly run in her ankle boots. Her vision was going blurry, and she blinked away the tears.

"Coraline," Michael called, clenching his fist even tighter. If he let go, then his focus would break. "Coraline,  _come back_!"

She shook her head, barely hearing him. Coraline stumbled forward and picked up speed. Flames began to emerge from the gym floor, causing her to stagger back, and she watched the scene with horror. Eloise, Greg, Billy, Amalia – they were all in there,  _burning alive_. Everything felt so constricted, and she wondered if it was from the tightness of her dress. Coraline couldn't  _breathe_.

Michael clutched her arm then, pulling her back. The grip was gentle, yet firm. Soft fingers caressed the goosebumps that had raised on her skin. Coraline stood there and watched the lights dim to a bright red with each shriek. Even with the destruction Michael was causing now, Coraline was roped in, and felt the need to hold his hand. Her heart beat rapidly as he hissed, " _Coraline Rose_."

She finally turned. Two black eyes stared back at her, but vanished immediately.

"Michael, make it stop," Coraline pled, not bothering to rip her arm away. The threads connected them and they made her feel alive. He just needed to stop this and everything could be okay again.  _They_ could be okay again.

Michael shook his head firmly. Coraline looked to his left hand, watching as he flexed it in and out.

"I'm telling you right now:  _stop it_." Her mouth wobbled, releasing tears that she had desperately tried to keep in. Her sobs were ugly and weak, but she noticed they made him react the same way. Sadness engulfed Michael's face as she begged him, "Michael,  _please._ Stop what you're doing. My friends are in there. Do you  _hear_  me?  _Innocent lives_  are  _in there_  –"

"But they all hurt you. They're getting what they deserve." His jaw tensed as he tried to suck in the tears. "This is only the beginning, Coraline. With your visions predicting the future and my power ... we could take down every bad person by ending the world."

Coraline's mouth dropped. He was kidding. He  _had_ to be kidding. This wasn't the boy with the sunshine hair and beautiful eyes.

"You  _lied_  to me. You were keeping this from me the  _whole time_ ," she spat. The parking lot lights flickered above their heads. "Make it  _fucking_  stop, Michael!"

And then, silence. Lights burst from inside the school. Coraline gasped and looked over her shoulder. The gymnasium was dark. Her eyes shifted to the school's entrance, realizing that a huge group was piling through the doors. Every single student that was still alive ran through like bulldozers, destroying anything and everything in their way. At the front and center was Amalia Beaumont, holding her hands out in front of her, as if she was keeping the school from collapsing.

Coraline swallowed hard, turning back to Michael with wide eyes. His expression was different now. He released his grip on Coraline and looked to his hands with shock. He sniffled loudly, as if he couldn't believe what he'd done. He was powered by the Devil — he  _had_ to be, whatever that meant. Coraline blinked, looking at his hands, until their stares met again.

"I'm ... I'm sorry, Coraline," he whispered.

She didn't know what to say. She didn't know if she  _could_ say anything. They stood in the middle of the parking lot as students moved like a flood around them. Coraline sucked in a sob and rubbed at her nose. She shook her head, unable to speak.

"I just ..." Michael's expression went blank. Teenagers shrieked as they ran past. "I have these feelings and powers I'm learning to control. But I  _can't_. I don't want bad people to hurt the ones I love. I don't want them to hurt  _you_  anymore, Coraline." He had been looking at his hands, but finally, he lifted his chin. "I don't want to be like this. I want to be a good person. And I know that  _you_  can help me."

_Help?_  Coraline's mind swam with a million different questions.  _What does he mean by, help him?_  She couldn't do anything. She couldn't even help  _herself_. With a shake of her head, Coraline felt the pressure invade her stomach. She instinctively began to step backward, causing Michael to grab her hand.

"No, no,  _don't go_ ," he pleaded, voice cracking. Tears ran down his cheeks, mixing with the red eyeshadow on the inner corner and staining his face. "I knew this would happen. I was always afraid it would happen." He shook his head violently. It sounded like he was muttering to himself, rather than speaking to her. "I'm afraid of me ... hurting you."

His grip wasn't tight. He would never handle her that way. Coraline easily slipped her hand from his, running it down her face. Mascara tears tainted her eyes. What could she say? What could she  _do_? She had these suspicions about him  _weeks ago_ , but she did nothing because she cared about this sunshine boy and he cared for her. She had pushed away the red flags for so long, and now she had to finally face them. Michael Langdon did so much for her, but this wasn't what she wanted.

Coraline had been  _naïve_. Maybe her hungry heart should've listened to everyone in the first place.

"I  _can't_  – I don't know what to do, Michael. I  _can't_  fix you." Her lip quivered as she continued to back away. He tried stepping forward, but she held up a hand, pointing a stern finger in his direction. "You always seemed like you were attracted to darkness, but maybe ..." Her voice cut to a whisper. "Maybe you  _are_  the darkness."

"But – but –" Michael sniffled and rubbed at his eyes. He shook his head, trying to convince himself that this wasn't happening. "But you're the only light I've ever known, Coraline. You were the first person to treat me like a  _real person_. You always understood me. You've never been afraid of me."

Coraline's eyes went wide. "I am now."

Another step backward. Then another. And then  _another_. Michael reached out, but didn't take a chance to follow her. "No, no – don't go, Coraline." His sobs were the only sound that could be heard over the yelling of scared teenagers. " _Please_ , Coraline. Please, don't leave me alone. You were helping me."

But she was running now. A gasp filled the air as soon as she heard Michael's last sentence, causing her feet to move at an unmeasurable fast pace. The wind pulled at her hair, drying her cheeks within seconds. She ran with the chaotic mob that had left the school, pushing through them to get lost within their ranks. She looked over her shoulder and saw Amalia still holding up the school and waiting for law enforcement.

Sliding her eyes to the left, Coraline saw Michael standing there, shoulders hunched, defeated. Her eyes welled up with tears again. Why couldn't she have prevented this vision? This shouldn't have happened. None of this should have  _ever_ happened: meeting him, killing the criminals, going to the Winter Ball ...  _none of it_.

The second she blinked, Michael had disappeared.

#####  **__________________________**

Heather Beaumont only had her Winter Ball Princess crown on for a short moment, before the chaos had started in the school gymnasium. She was one of the first victims, being crushed to death with a flying speaker. Nine other students didn't survive either, and the school almost collapsed in on itself. Luckily, Eloise, Greg, and Billy survived. School and midterm exams were canceled, leading students right into winter break. A vigil was held for the victims days after the destruction.

As soon as Coraline got home the night of the dance, she pressed her back against the door and locked it. Francesca ran from the living room. She had stayed up all night, due to the gnawing feeling in her stomach, and when she saw her daughter's facial expression, she knew it had been true. Francesca engulfed her daughter in a tight hug, pressing kisses to the top of her head. Coraline didn't have to explain a word, nor did she want to.

She convinced her mother to take them to her dad's house. Francesca was bitter and almost refused, but when she saw the pleading look in Coraline's eyes, they packed their bags and headed straight out. Coraline didn't know what was going to happen with Michael, but she knew they weren't safe. If Michael was some kind of  _Chosen One_ , he may have the ability to find them wherever they went. He could easily find them with the Devil on his side.

But he never did.

Coraline and Francesca stayed with Jacob Avery for two, long weeks, and nothing came from Michael. Jacob had never been happier to be with his daughter again, but all Coraline wanted was a safe house. She refused to leave her room most of the time, in fear she'd see the woman Jacob left them for.

A day before winter break ended, Francesca finally decided it was time to return home, despite Coraline's fear. They packed their bags back into her mother's cherry-red Camaro and drove the short distance home. Coraline hesitated walking out of the car as they pulled up to the house, scared that Michael would see her from his front porch. She wasn't sure when she would be ready to talk to him, but surely not now.

She finally stepped out of the car, slamming the passenger door shut. Coraline looked over the hood of the car at Michael's house and found herself shivering at the silence. She walked closer to the sidewalk, noticing that Miriam's car wasn't in the driveway. The neon lawn chair was gone from the porch. The shades were opened, allowing anyone to look inside. As Francesca took their bags out of her trunk, Coraline walked across the street.

The house was  _empty_. There wasn't a person in sight. Coraline would never see him again. As much as his act of rebellion terrified her, she knew there was no way she could ignore him for the rest of her life. The threads were too strong. Their connection was too tight. But that would never happen now. California was Satanist-free again.

Michael Langdon had vanished without a trace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Act II is up next!!! This chapter was very long and draining, but it was so important for these two to experience. There are some heavy Tate/Violet vibes towards the end and these were definitely intentional (despite me not liking Tate/Violet), because Michael and Coraline do sometimes remind me of them, in a way idk lol. 
> 
> I do believe in the concept that Michael MAYBE could've been redeemed if all these people hadn't abandoned him. It's true that he was always meant to be the Antichrist, but idk. He became the way he was because of the people who gave up on him. Coraline, in this story, is yet another one of those people, and maybe I'm just biased because I love my little prophet but she has a reason for leaving him. She will definitely regret this decision later on, but she's a teenaged girl who's scared because her boyfriend just tried to kill everyone in her high school??? Granted, Michael's intentions were skewed and he was doing it to help her, I definitely think Coraline's actions were justified.
> 
> OKAY I'M DONE LMAO. Sorry for rambling so much; on with Act II!!!!


	17. PRIME CANDIDATE

#### ACT II: STRANGERS

##### CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

#####  **__________________________**

 

**_FOUR YEARS LATER_ **   
  
  


**CORALINE**  had a vision of the Apocalypse six months before it happened.

She really didn't understand it at first. She had been at her job when her vision blacked out. Coraline remembered stumbling backward and running to a safe space for shelter, somewhere dark where no one could find her. She had slipped to the floor, gripping the walls around her as the vision took control of her entire body, transporting her to a future where the land was barren and the sky was dark. She remembered how she couldn't breathe in the vision. The air was toxic and heavy. Explosions echoed in her ears, and when she finally turned around, she witnessed the ground implode just feet from her. Coraline began to sprint, and as a cloud of dust prepared to envelope her, she had come back to reality.

They continued throughout the next couple of months. Coraline knew she had to do something, but she didn't know  _what_. Who could she tell? Why would the government believe a twenty-two-year-old rambling that the Apocalypse was near? She surely wouldn't. As the visions continued, depicting a graver fate for humanity, Coraline chewed at her fingers and tried convincing herself preposterous things, like how nukes didn't exist or that God would save them all. That was her biggest mistake.

2021 was a bad year, but 2020 was even  _worse_. On her 21st birthday, one of the most  _important days_ in a young adult's life, Coraline's father died. He had actually planned meeting up with her and her mother for dinner that night, but someone had other plans for him. As Jacob had been crossing a street to get to the bar where Francesca and Coraline sat, he was struck by a car driving over the speed limit. He was killed instantly.

After he first left them, Francesca vowed to never stop hating Jacob Avery. However, once they buried him in the ground, she clutched her chest and realized the love she still had for the man who broke her heart. It was almost unbearable to believe that he was gone, and her daughter now had to live without a father. Coraline never thought that she knew her father that well, even before he left, but now she wouldn't ever know. She wouldn't ever see him grow old. She'd just see the flowers on his grave wilt and die.

In her grief, Francesca turned to God. She had never been one to care about religion, though she had made a hissy fit when Satanists had moved to their small, California county in the past. Now, she was almost out of control. Francesca attended church every Sunday morning, bright and early, and in her best clothes. She read through the Bible when she began to think about Jacob's death. She even forced her daughter to get cross tattoos to honor him, right on their wrists for everyone to see. Coraline wasn't even sure if God existed, but she would do anything to make her mother feel better.

Jacob's whole fortune was left to Coraline, much to her surprise. However, she didn't use it unless it was truly needed. After finishing her Bachelor's Degree in Anthropology at a California state college, Coraline got into bartending. Although she had the money to pursue something greater, she wanted to feel  _normal_ , like she didn't have thousands of dollars waiting for her to inherit in her bank account, or visions of an apocalypse that plagued her every damn month. Getting a bartending license  _screamed_ normal. The money at the bank was used for more important things, like groceries and taking care of her indigent mother, who wouldn't stop preaching about God's love.

She worked most nights at the California Underground. They hired her on the spot, and Coraline wondered if it was because she purposely wore a top to her interview that might've been a bit too low-cut. Regardless, she liked what she was doing. It was the most normal thing in her life –  _working_.

"I don't understand why you waste your time at that silly, little bar, Coraline," her mother would tsk, cozying under a knit blanket while eighty-degree weather raged on outside their chilly home. "You could be doing something  _with your degree_. Don't you care about that, or did your father's tuition payments mean  _nothing_? You wasted your time getting that license. Let's hope God has other plans for you."

_That's if God exists_ , Coraline would think to herself.

But that was the whole thing: her mother would  _never_ understand. Coraline had never worked a day in her life in high school, simply because she didn't need to. She never had to deal with the struggles of retail, or being a grocery store bagger. This was her first, big  _normal job_. But it wouldn't last forever. The California Underground was just a stand-in until she could figure out how to start her anthropology career, but  _that_  was going to be difficult.

The patrons of the Underground happened to be the best part. They were big, burly looking men, or wealthy business owners looking for a quick drink at the end of a long work day. Every once in a while she'd see someone average, someone who just wanted to sit at the bar and have a conversation. Hardly any women roamed the tiny pub. The males liked to call her, "sweetheart," or, "Church Girl," judging from the cross tattoo on her wrist. After complaining to the owner – a tall, bald-headed man named Steven Jobs, with  _no relation_ to the creator of Apple – she was told what most women were told when they were being harassed: "Just deal with it."

"Make it worth their while," Steven explained his his hands. He tended to do that a lot. "The demographic at the Underground is  _men_ , Cora. If you wanna fuck with the eagles, you gotta learn to fly. Chat them up, have a nice conversation, and you'll earn better tips. Problem solved."

The problem wasn't  _exactly_ solved, but she did her best to follows Steven's instructions, even if they did infuriate her. Eventually, Coraline realized that he had been right. A tight shirt and little flirting could do wonders for tips, and she ended up  _enjoying_ the conversations with the people she talked with.

Her biggest mistakes came in the form of blonde-haired male patrons. She tended to get close with them, especially if they were older than her. Months ago, Coraline got very friendly with a man named Gabriel Meyers. He was a twenty-eight-year-old graduate student at UCLA, who came to the California Underground every Thursday and Friday night – which were Coraline's main working days. His order was the same: classic margarita, on the rocks, salted rim. He was a slipup waiting to happen.

Eventually, Coraline found herself in Gabriel's apartment at one AM, when she finally got off her Friday shift. He first invited her to the bathroom while she was on the clock. Coraline got paid to be fingered in the dirty stalls of the men's bathroom, right up against the urinals, but she really didn't seem to care. He then drove her back to his apartment, where the invitation only continued.

Coraline liked that Gabriel had really big hands. She loved any male with big hands, bright, blonde hair, and dreamy-blue eyes. It was her ultimate weakness. Gabriel had soft lips and wasn't rough with her. Blonde boys were always gentle with her. Boys with sunshine hair and glossy eyes and straight noses. Boys that looked like they were angels sent down to Earth, but were secretly devils that would somehow ruin her.

She tried not to think that she had a type, and that her type looked like a certain boy from her past. Coraline didn't think of  _him_  often, but she was constantly reminded of the bad things she thought were for good. She helped him kill people. Most humans weren't pure lily white, but ... she had been an accomplice —  _a villain_  — in hisgame. The blood on her hands washed away, but there was a stain left in her brain. She felt guilty when the memories surfaced. Other times, she didn't regret a thing.

Sometimes, Coraline wanted to scream and find out where he was so she could curse him. However, she dared not to say his name, afraid he would show up.

One night, she thought he  _had_. Coraline remembered it so vividly: she had been tugging down her shirt while filling up a glass with Blue Moon on tap. She slid the glass down to the patron in question, made sure she had enough chest showing, before walking over to the older-man and checking to see if the beer was of quality. "Same great taste, as usual, Cora," he smirked, sliding a five-dollar bill across the sleek, wooden table towards her. "Thanks, sweetheart."

_Sweetheart_. It would never get old. Coraline had turned from the male and stuffed the bill in her shirt. The other employee there that night, Chrissy, sent Coraline a quick thumbs up as she continued to wipe down the rest of the tables. Coraline was finally doing well at something. She was embracing normality, as if the Apocalypse wasn't right around the corner – or was that even  _real_?

When she heard the bell over the door ring, she turned to grin at the new customer. But no one was there. Mouth falling, Coraline's eyes shifted to the window next to the Underground entrance, and almost felt those same eyes bug out of her skull.

Sunshine hair turned strawberry blonde. Same bright, blue eyes. Tall stature. Upturned lips.

It couldn't be. But it  _was_.

Coraline remembered jumping across the bar. She had been so scared of him years ago, but now she was running, just to get a quick glimpse of her past. Chrissy had shouted for her to come back. Coraline didn't hear her as she shoved the door open. The bell shook loudly at the impact. Coraline skidded to a stop outside the Underground, whipping her dark hair back and forth, searching for his face once again.

_Nothing_. She was left in the darkness and under a blanket of stars. A yellow streetlight flickered over her head. Maybe it was a good thing that he wasn't there, that he wasn't  _real_ anymore. She was getting through her visions every month. She was making good money, and was able to afford the necessities. She had a normal job and a normal life. The last thing she needed was him back in it.

He was gone. He had been gone for years and he wasn't coming back. At least, that's what she hoped.

#####  **__________________________**

It was almost three o'clock on a sunny, Monday evening. The Underground opened at five, and Coraline was currently counting the cash drawers from last night. Chrissy straightened up the tables and turned on one her favorite old tunes: "Potential Breakup Song" by Aly & AJ. Depending on your definition of old, Coraline considered this song a blast from the past in the year of 2021. As Chrissy turned the song up on blast, Coraline was suddenly reminded of middle school dances.

Coraline looked up to see Chrissy singing along to the song. She had a broomstick in her hands that she was  _supposed_ to be using for sweeping. However, Chrissy currently held the end of the broomstick to her mouth and pretended it was a microphone. For a twenty-five-year-old, Chrissy sometimes acted younger than Coraline did.

"As much as I love this song," Coraline yelled over the music, "can you turn it down? I need to focus on counting cash."

Chrissy scoffed, but regretfully walked over to the old jukebox and turned the speakers down low. Tugging a hand through her fiery red hair, Chrissy flipped the TV to a news station. "I wonder if it's going to rain later. I've noticed that the boys tend to come in more often during shitty weather." She smirked. "Good thing I wore my best shirt tonight."

Coraline wrapped a band around last night's profit as WBN News flickered on the television. She tried not to pay it much mind while swiping her fingers through the cash again. Her math was off. She had never excelled at math,  _particularly_ , but Coraline knew this drawer was short of cash. Had someone taken money before locking up the bar?

"Hey, Chrissy," Coraline called, scrunching her mouth up, "do you know who worked last –?"

Out of nowhere, a loud horn began to blare. It was deafening sound, reaching the hollow insides of Coraline's ears. The horn almost made her dizzy on the spot, and she plugged her fingers into her ears quickly. She viewed to Chrissy then, who was pulling her phone out from the back pocket of her tight skinny jeans. Coraline rose her voice to ask, "Is that, like, a  _fire alarm_? What's going on?"

"I don't know. It's ..." Chrissy blinked, not believing the message on her cellphone. "I just got an emergency alert on my phone."

Coraline pulled herself over the bar and sprinted to her coworker's side. Shoving her face towards the phone screen, she read:

_URGENT ALERT: BALLISTIC MISSLE THREAT INBOUND TO LOS ANGELES. SEEK IMMEDIATE SHELTER. THIS IS NOT A DRILL._

Pursing her lips, Coraline saw a multitude of visions flash before her eyes. She leaned away, still plugging her fingers into her ears, and shook her head. "This probably isn't real, Chrissy. It's like that time in Hawaii, right? Yeah, it has to be. In a minute, we'll get another alert that it isn't –"

"Widespread panic is being reported in major cities around the country," a news anchor claimed from the television. Coraline and Chrissy slowly turned to face the TV set, pulling their fingers from their ears. "We can now confirm that a ballistic missile alert was texted to the public at approximately two forty-seven PM, Pacific Standard Time. The Pentagon has not yet released a statement and there has been no word from the White House. WBN can now confirm Hong Kong, London, numerous sites in the Baltics, and Moscow have all been hit and destroyed by nuclear IBSMS."

Coraline's lip trembled as she turned to face Chrissy. She tried her best to deny the truth, even while the anchor on the TV continued to say, "We've just been told to evacuate." Coraline shook her head.  _Mom_ , she thought.  _I have to get to mom_. Screw evacuation, all Coraline cared about was getting back to her mom and waiting out the blast. She didn't have time to reprimand herself about the visions and what she should have done, because the Apocalypse was happening before their very eyes and she knew that not even a prophet could prevent the End.

Grabbing her bag from below the counter, Coraline ran for the door as the horns continued to blare in her ear drums. "I have to go, Chrissy," she shouted. "I'm sorry. Please, just –"

Chrissy tugged her coworker back. "Cora, we're all each other have! We have to evacuate together!"

" _No_ ," Coraline shook her head, pulling the door open, "I have to get to my –"

She stopped suddenly, her chest bumping into something hard. Coraline shook her head and blinked her eyes, feeling dizzy while the horns echoed across the state. She stepped back, almost tripping over Chrissy, as two people in suits entered the bar. One man and one woman. They looked around the establishment before finally landing their stares on Coraline.

The woman stepped forward. She had slicked-back brown hair and cold, grey eyes, almost like Coraline's. With hands behind her back, she glared down at the two females. "Coraline Avery."

Chrissy grabbed onto Coraline's arm and grunted, "We're closed. For good, as of right now."

The man was suddenly in her face, tearing off the hat on his bald head. He was a hulking man, taller than most, with dark skin and a stern demeanor. "You need to come with us.  _Now_."

" _What_?" Coraline stuttered out. "Go with  _you_  –?"

"You have been selected by the Cooperative," the woman explained. "We have a location prepared for you where you will be safe."

Glancing to Chrissy for a moment, Coraline turned to the intimidating duo with a raised brow. " _Cooperative_? What the fuck is  _that_?" She licked her head and shook her head, trying to decipher what was happening. "Do you really expect me to leave with a pair of  _strangers_ right before we're all burned alive? No  _fucking_  way. I ..." Coraline looked off in a daze. "I can't go with you. I need to go  _home_. I need to find my mom. I need to –"

The ground shook, causing Coraline to instinctively press her back into Chrissy. The woman before her disagreed, "What you  _need_  to do is come with us."

"And  _why_  should I?" Coraline challenged.

"Your exceptional genetic makeup makes you a prime candidate," the male explained.

Coraline blinked. "Prime candidate for  _what exactly_?"

"Survival."

She stood up straighter, mouth dropping slightly. Words escaped her, but questions surrounded every corner of her mind. The visions came in flashes again, reminding her of her mistake.

"How ..." She swallowed hard. "What do you mean by 'exceptional genetic makeup?'"

The woman reached for her arm. "You have to come with us, Miss Avery."

Coraline snapped her arm away, as if the female had a disease. " _Fuck no_!"

With a careful step forward, the man looked down at Coraline like he held her life in his hands. Maybe he did, but Coraline wasn't going to stick around to find out. "You have to believe us," he whispered, and it was hard to hear over the blaring horns. "We're the only chance that you have to live through this."

"If she doesn't come,  _he'll_  be angry," the woman breathed in her associate's ear.

Coraline's brow furrowed in anger. These people had to be crazy, even crazier than how she was perceived to be as a teenager. She  _had_ to get to her mother, who was probably hugging the Bible to her chest as they spoke.

"I don't care! I'm not going. I  _have_  to find my mom. I have to be with her." Coraline walked forward, prepared to shove them out of her way. "No, I'm  _not_  going –"

The woman finally grasped her arms, whipping Coraline around so she had her by the wrists. "We can't accept that," she replied as Coraline tugged against her tight grip.

Grinding her teeth together, Coraline wondered if kicking the woman in the shins would help. She didn't have a moment to rethink the plan, but as she lifted her shoe, Chrissy's hand shot out. Her voice was low, breathing out into a whisper, "Cora, you gotta go."

Coraline pursed her lips. "Chrissy,  _what_  –"

"Save yourself," she murmured. "There isn't much time now."

The male nodded, ushering Coraline out of the bar. "She's right. Follow us."

"NO!" Coraline shrieked, kicking the air as the woman used her muscles to lift her. She was thrashing in the stranger's hold, but it did nothing. Unknown men in hazard suits flooded the outside of the bar. Coraline continued to pull on the woman's hold as she screamed, "You can't make me do anything!"

But they could.

She was tossed into a large black van. Before she could run out, the back doors were slammed in her face. She was in the truck, in front of a barred window. Tears welled up in her eyes as she slammed her hands against the bars until bruises formed. She shook her head and sobbed harder, screaming for anyone who could hear. The trunk was soundproof. No one heard her cries.

At the Avery household, Francesca sat near the fireplace while the alarms raged on outside, unaware of the missiles heading right for California.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HERE WE GO WITH ACT II, FOLKS! Michael and Coraline are older now, which is where that little Mature theme will come into play. Please make sure to note that as Act II progresses, sexual situations and more religious themes will be exemplified. On Wattpad, I used to make each smut chapter with a warning, just so I wouldn't get in trouble with staff lol. But I don't think I have to do that on AO3 because they welcome porn with a parade lmao. Anyways, I hope you all are excited!!!


	18. THE VISIONARIES

#### ACT II: STRANGERS

##### CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

#####  **__________________________**

**CORALINE**  didn't remember how she fell asleep, but she woke up with dry tears staining her cheeks. She assumed the couple who took her sedated her with some drug. The last thing she remembered was screaming in the van at the top of her lungs, making sure people outside could hear her, and then –  _nothing_. Ultimate blackness, like when she had a vision. If only one of those could've foreseen her kidnapping.

Scrubbing a hand down her face, Coraline fluttered her eyes open. Her butt felt cushioned, and she sat up to realize that she was strapped into a comfortable seat. Her eyes scanned the compact room: other cushioned chairs, marble tabletops, an unopened bottle of wine, subtle vibration from the floor.

She blinked her eyes quickly and turned to the small, circular window beside her.  _A plane_ , she thought,  _you're_ _on_ _a plane, dumbass_. But how? And where were the Cooperative members?

Coraline rubbed at her temples and hunched forward. How could she have gotten into this situation? In the middle of the Apocalypse, kidnapped by an unknown organization ... Things had become so normal – well, as normal as they could be. The visions predicted this, but ... she would never be prepared, nor did she think she would survive it.

She had to find someone, and they had to explain what was happening  _right now_. Coraline stood up and stumbled across the shaking floor. She gripped the chairs around her for support. For a second, she almost considered opening the wine bottle first and then worrying about answers later. She shook her head, reminding herself to stay focused.

Pounding her fist against the pilot doors, Coraline felt the heavy rumble of the plane and almost tripped over her own two feet. The door flew open, revealing the female agent. Coraline's vision swirled and she tried her best to focus. "What's ..." Coraline shook her head, eyeing the male agent driving the plane from behind his partner. "What the fuck is going on?! Take me back!"

"We're preparing for the blast," the female answered quickly. "Get down and stay there. You need to prepare for it too."

Coraline ran a hand through her hair. " _The blast_?! You need to take me back to L.A.  _right now_ —"

"Miss Avery, get down!" The male agent called out.

"No!" Coraline seethed, trying to shove her way into the pilot area. " _Where_  are we –?"

And then it came.

The plane flipped sideways, sending Coraline across the carpet. Light flashed and flickered across the walls. Coraline heard an earsplitting explosion and a ringing sound emerged in her head. The light reflected a red hue across the entire cabin. She clutched her chest, trying to find air to breathe, before she looked up at the female agent, staring at her with wide eyes. Coraline crawled over to one of the windows and pulled herself into a seat.

She couldn't believe it. She  _really_  couldn't.

Fire reached the clouds, bursting into the open air. Fog spread over the Earth and coated every inch. In the blink of an eye, everything was just ...  _gone_. No more houses. No more land. No more animals. No more  _people_. Life simply ended.

_Her mother_. She was gone too. Coraline trembled as the realization ran through her brain. She placed her hands on the window glass, feeling the warmth from the blast radiate to her fingertips. Coraline shook her head.  _No_ , she refused,  _mom. It can't be real. It can't be real. This is all just some long vision that I'm going to wake up from and I'm going to find her and she's going to be reading that fucking, goddamn Bible, while muttering things about dad and_ –

It was true. Coraline's lip quivered. Tears sprang from her eyes – hot, wet tears that just wouldn't  _cease_. Her hands curled against the window, and she began to softly hit them on the glass. Her mother was gone.  _Fucking gone_. Killed in the blast, probably not even knowing that it would happen. Red lined Coraline's eyes as she thought of her mother's death. The female Cooperative agent watched Coraline with a sympathetic stare, hardly moving from her spot. There wasn't anything they could do.

A voice invaded her mind then, one she hadn't heard in a long time. She almost forgot what it sounded like, but upon noticing the tone, her tears stopped. She sniffled loudly and lifted her eyes to the fiery explosion outside her window.

_This is only the beginning, Coraline_ , he once said, determination pulsating in his voice.  _With your visions predicting the future and my power ... we could take down every bad person by ending the world_.

His guardian used to have a name for him:  _The Chosen One_. He could do extraordinary things – things that could destroy life as they knew it. His title meant something fouler, more vile than anything she could've imagined. His title handed him a destiny he couldn't outrun, and neither could she, but she didn't know that yet. Coraline researched it once he was gone, and pushed the information to the back of her mind, wanting to forget it ever existed and only remember the sunshine boy she once knew.

But it  _couldn't_  have been him.  _He was gone_. His reckless and childish soul probably got him killed. Besides, how could one boy obliterate the world  _alone_?

#####  **__________________________**

It took a day for them to safely land the plane. Good thing too – Coraline overhead the male agent saying that they were running low on fuel. Once the fog cleared enough, he was able to land near the edge of California, but when Coraline looked out the windows, fog was  _all_  she saw. It was milky grey and the sky was nothing but a faded green. Every part of the ground was littered with ash and death. It was like everything now ceased to exist and was waiting to be rebuilt.

Coraline decided to keep her mouth shut as they dressed her in a yellow hazard suit. They weren't going to answer most of her questions anyways. She held her breath as they stepped outside. Sweat coated her armpits. When she finally exhaled, she waited for the impact of toxic air, even though she was wearing a protective suit.

A black Jeep was waiting for them outside the plane, with whom she assumed was another agent in the front seat. The three of them loaded themselves into the back seat. Coraline ripped off her mask once they were inside. She sat in the middle, squished between the two agents. She knew they did this purposely.

"We're taking you to an outpost equipped for long-term habitation," the male agent explained, lifting the hood on his suit. Coraline's eyes went wide upon realizing that one of her questions had finally been answered. "It's one of ten around the world. Each of them constructed in minimal fallout zones."

Coraline swallowed hard as the fogged cleared in front of the Jeep, revealing a structure in the distance. "An outpost —  _gotcha_. Are there other people there?" Her voice was slightly trembling.

"Yes," the woman on her right nodded. "But only others like you, and those who could afford to purchase a ticket. The money they paid helped finance this operation."

"So —  _what_? Am I being used for some procreation facility or something?" Coraline muttered, staring ahead as reality hit her.

The man chuckled lightly, but it had a dark tone hidden beneath. "No, Miss Avery."

She was dumped off in front of a deteriorated gate. Picking at her hazard suit, Coraline turned, wanting to ask who was coming with her, when she realized the Jeep was  _driving away_. Her mouth dropped.

"Are you  _fucking_  kidding me?!" She shrieked, but it wasn't audible inside the suit. "You're  _leaving_ me in the middle of a barren wasteland?!"

Slowly turning on her heel, Coraline looked up at the gate. Before she could formulate a plan, the gate opened for her automatically. The fog cleared in front of her. Coraline's eyes flickered around. There was no one.

She walked forward, boots crunching against the ash-covered ground. Looking to her feet, she saw that she was stepping on several  _dead snakes_. Coraline yelped and sprinted forward, looking back to see the gate close again. As the milky fog grew lighter, she saw a person appear a few feet ahead. They were dressed head-to-toe in a black suit with a mask fully covering their face. With a gentle wave, they gestured for her to come forward. Coraline wasn't going to decline a way out, no matter how strange they looked.

The Outpost was a swirling, stone structure, situated in a desert of dead weeds and animal bones. It looked small once she was near it, but when her guide led her through the entrance, Coraline realized that the entire Outpost was  _underground_. She followed the masked figure down a long, dimly-lit hallway, not daring to ask a question. They brought her into a cleaning station, where two other masked workers revealed themselves behind Coraline and shoved her under a vent, which blasted dry-air over her suit. She blinked a few times.

More workers arrived, but these ones wore normal clothes – at least, the most normal outfits she'd seen in the last hour. They were two women, dressed in all grey. One of them unzipped the back of Coraline's suit, while the other removed her mask. Coraline breathed out a sigh of relief and felt her matted hair. She didn't have time to question her surroundings as another entrance opened.

It was a woman, as tall as Coraline's mother. She had dark red hair and eyes that almost appeared black. Her clothing was ... an  _interesting_  choice. While Coraline was dressed in a pair of ripped jeans and tight, low-cut Henley, this woman had on formal attire for the 1800s. A flickering candle resided in one of her hands. She carried a cane on her, which clicked loudly against the floorboards as she approached.

"I'm Wilhemina Venable," she greeted in a cold voice. "Welcome to Outpost 3."

Coraline assumed she didn't need to tell Ms. Venable her name as the woman turned on her heel and walked away. She looked around at the workers around her before fast walking down a dark corridor to keep up with Venable's pace. It wasn't that hard, seeing as she walked with a cane. Coraline wondered why.

Venable led her straight forward into an entry hall. A large fire rose from a structure in the middle, with vintage chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. The rest of the space was lit by candlelight. Coraline spun around in place, marveling at the classic aesthetic.

"Amazing, isn't it?"

Coraline turned when she realized Venable was speaking to her. She replied in a raspy voice, "This ... this place is  _underground_. Why build it that way?"

Venable smirked and gestured for Coraline to walk by her side. "For many years, this place served as an exclusive boys school. Exclusive enough that no one could know about it. The Cooperative – to whom we owe our  _eternal gratitude_  to – took ownership and converted it once they realized what was coming."

_So they knew about the End too_ , Coraline presumed.

The young brunette kept her hands together and stood a careful distance from Wilhemina Venable. She swallowed hard as the older woman led her up a tall, old-fashioned staircase. "Yeah, about that Cooperative," Coraline muttered. "Who even are they? How do they know I have some kind of weird genetics –?"

"The Cooperative is not made up of nations, or armies. It's a collection of the dozen greatest minds mankind has to offer.  _The visionaries_." Venable smirked slightly, taking slow steps up the stairs and revealing a more expansive upper level. "They have plans far beyond the temporary cleansing fire of the bombs."

" _Visionaries_ ," Coraline repeated. "If they are  _such_  visionaries, how did they not come up with a way to stop Armageddon?"

Venable chuckled, leading Coraline around the second-floor hallway, where the suites resided. Coraline eyed a worker in a grey uniform, scrubbing the ground with a dirty brush and an empty bucket. Every panel inside was either brown or grey, but the candlelight casted a yellow tone across the walls. Coraline wondered how old this boys school truly was, or if that was even it's true origins.

"Silly girl," Venable replied. She shook her head and stopped in place, turning to Coraline with a narrowed stare. Her purple cane tapped loudly against the floor. "Men did a make of this world, because there is  _no stopping_ it. The Cooperative offered the worthy a way out. You should be  _grateful_." She cocked her head to the side. "How would  _you_  have prevented the Apocalypse,  _hmm_? It isn't so easy."

Coraline crossed her arms over her chest, glancing at anything but Venable's penetrating glare. "I'm not saying that I'm not grateful. I just think –"

Her voice gave out when her eyes landed on a face at the end of the corridor. Walking forward with her hands behind her back was a woman all-too-familiar. Short, dark hair. Piercing blue eyes. Mauve lips. Stout stature and wrinkles that told a thousand mysteries. Coraline's eyes went wide, the sight causing her to take a step backward.

"Oh, I wasn't expecting you," Venable smiled towards her comrade and gestured her way. "Miss Avery," she introduced, viewing to Coraline with a crooked smile, "meet Ms. Mead."


	19. FRESH MEAT

#### ACT II: STRANGERS

##### CHAPTER NINETEEN

#####  **__________________________**

**CORALINE**  felt her mouth drop as stared into the famous eyes of Ms. Mead. A million questions formed in her head: Where had she gone all those years ago? How had she survived the bomb? Coraline thought that she had a possible answer for the latter. Miriam Mead could survive anything. She made that clear a long time ago. Coraline knew that she would go to the ends of the earth to survive, especially in the means of the Apocalypse.

But the most important question still lingered: If she was alive, then where was  _he_?

Coraline stepped forward after a moment of hesitation. Miriam stood before her, cocking her head to the side, as if she didn't know her at all. Silence engulfed the group of survivors. Coraline could only hear a servant scrubbing away in the next hall. Venable looked between the two of them with confusion.

" _Miriam_ ," Coraline shook her head incredulously, "it's me. It's Coraline Avery, remember?"

She didn't give her a moment to reply, because Coraline was already wrapping her arms around the older woman, shaking her from side to side. She never thought that she would  _ever_ be hugging Miriam Mead, but after the Apocalypse ... these were desperate times. Out of  _all people_ , she couldn't believe that her ex-boyfriend's guardian survived the bombs.

Miriam's arms didn't move an inch. She looked to Venable, who was just as perplexed as she was. Flashes of a young Coraline appeared in Miriam's vision, but she blinked them away. It was like when she remembered the beautiful, blonde boy. They were just flashes. They weren't real. She didn't  _know_ this Coraline Avery.

Coraline leaned away, raising a brow towards the familiar woman. "Do you  _not_  remember me?"

Venable raised a hand. "Excuse  _me_ for interrupting," she proclaimed, "but do you two  _know_  each other?"

"Yes," Coraline replied quickly, her voice rising. She looked from Venable, and then back to Miriam. "Yes,  _remember_? I know it was a long time ago, but I  _dated_  –"

"I ..." Miriam shook her head. "I believe this is our first meeting." The flashes were coming again – a young brunette smiling beside the beautiful boy – but she ignored them. Miriam sent Coraline a nervous grin. "Quite the hugger, though."

Coraline was at a loss for words. Her mouth hung open slightly, and it took her a moment to finally close it.  _This_  was  _Miriam Mead_. There was no doubt about that. She  _knew_  Miriam Mead. She had been her  _neighbor_ , for crying out loud. So why did this woman in front of her suddenly forget that she ever existed? It didn't make sense. Four years had passed between them, but that wasn't a long enough time for Coraline to forget a face like Miriam Mead's.

 _My Ms. Mead would never harm anyone I care about_ , a voice hissed in her brain.

Coraline's back straightened suddenly. Her breath hitched at the voice, but she did her best to ignore it and sent the pair of confused women in front of her a nervous smile. "Perhaps ..." She swallowed hard, turning to Ms. Mead. "Perhaps, I mistook you for someone else. Sorry."

"I've been told my face is memorable, Miss Avery," Miriam's grin faded away, revealing the same dark expression she had years ago. Time hadn't changed her one bit. She pursed her lips, glancing to Venable and nodding. "I'll be going now."

Coraline looked at Ms. Mead from over her shoulder as the woman disappeared down another room. She raised a brow again. Something was off, and it wasn't just that this place had barely any electricity.

Spinning back around to Venable, Coraline noticed that she was walking forward again. The brunette quickly followed behind and asked, "So ... what do we even  _do_ around here? The world ended. There are no power lines, no Netflix –"

"We are not living in a regression,  _Miss Avery_ ," Venable scoffed. The candlelight wavered over Coraline's face, causing her cheeks to flush. "Technology is what destroyed the world. Everyone thought they were equal because of things like  _social media_ and  _cellphones_. But that's all been swept away now. The national order will restore itself."

Coraline's eyes squinted as Venable stopped in front of a locked door. "Seems a little far-fetched."

"As does Armageddon," Venable argued, taking out a large ring of keys and placing one in the lock. "But that happened as well."

Coraline crossed her arms over her chest. Wilhemina Venable had a point, as much as she didn't want to admit it.

"This is your room," Venable continued, pushing the vintage, wooden door open. The candle's flame danced as Venable gestured for Coraline to walk through. "As a Purple, you will be furnished with a private suite, as instructed by the Head of the Cooperative  _himself_."

Coraline nodded slowly before stepping into the suite. Her hand lingered on the old door, eyeing the exquisite markings, which looked like some form of language she didn't know. The suite was furnished flawlessly, with a large bed, a nice closet, and her very own bathroom. No lights whatsoever. Candles hung from every crevice in the room, highlighting different portions. Coraline bent down and dragged her hand across the black and purple sheets. When she looked back to Venable, she asked, "Why am I a Purple? What does that even mean?"

"It  _means_  you're part of the Elite." Venable leaned against the door and watched Coraline curiously. "The  _worthy_. Those  _chosen_ to survive."

"Because of my ' _exceptional genetic makeup_ ,' whatever that means." Coraline stood up and scoped out the room again. With arms crossed over her chest, she asked, "Who even  _chose_ the people to survive anyways?"

Venable sighed in an annoyed tone, " _The Cooperative_."

"So you're telling me a group of 'visionaries,' who couldn't preventthe Apocalypse chose specific people to survive?"

"No," Venable replied lightly, "I was told it was just one man." Before Coraline could ask for a name, the other woman chuckled venomously. "You ask many questions, Miss Avery. May I continue with the tour now?"

Coraline rolled her eyes, but gestured for her to go on. Venable walked further into the room and approached the closet door. With a quick swipe of her hand, the closet opened, revealing an outpouring of dresses, all in a dusty mauve color. Coraline's brow rose as she picked up one of the skirts.

"In the Outpost, everyone knows their place. The Purples wear purple, and the Greys wear grey." Venable smiled at the hoard of beautiful dresses that were selected for these bothersome survivors. She wanted dresses like these to wear too. "The Greys, unlike you, are servants. A necessary component to any functioning society. But I am the alternative. I am merely the face of the Cooperative, at the moment."

The brunette pursed her lips, releasing the silky dress fabric from her fingertips. "So we just sit around all day in purple dresses and play cards? That's the point of this outpost?"

"While  _also_ abiding by the rules, which you are  _not_ exempt from," Venable explained, shutting the closet door viciously. Coraline took a step back, afraid of the trembling flame on her candle. "The house rules are simple. You will refer to me as  _only_ Ms. Venable. You may  _never_ leave the building. If you wander onto the grounds, you will not be let back in, due to the danger of radiation contamination." She leaned in closer to Coraline, tapping her cane on the floor. "And  _no_ unauthorized copulation,  _of any kind_. Under any circumstances.  _No exceptions_."

Coraline snorted before she could stop herself. " _No sex_?" She bit the edge of her fingernail, despite Venable's cold demeanor. "And here I was thinking that this was a procreation facility."

"There will be no  _procreation_ , Miss Avery. Do you understand?" Venable's tone was like ice, hitting Coraline's skin in spikes. The younger woman's smile faded as she nodded. "Good. I will see you for dinner in two hours. Don't be late."

With a sharp-toothed smirk, Coraline replied, "Wouldn't miss it for the world ending, Ms. Venable."

#####  **__________________________**

Coraline hung her arms over the pristine, white bathtub. Candles circled the bathroom, casting an orange light across her skin. A large sink and mirror stood in front of the tub, allowing Coraline to take in her battered appearance when she turned her head. Her eyes were sunken in and there had been grime in her hair. She looked like she literally  _walked through shit_. Judging from the state of the earth outside, that was probably the case.

She sighed, propping her feet on the water tap. She turned it on and off. Hot water sprayed and then stopped. She needed to get out of the tub to get ready, but it was just too warm. Everything outside was freezing, which was completely unusual for California, but what laid outside certainly wasn't California anymore.

"No Netflix, no sex ..." Coraline scrunched up her mouth and looked to her finger on her right hand. She wasn't a person who  _liked_  to masturbate – it simply made her do all the work and she didn't like that – but desperate times called for desperate measures. With a scoff, Coraline looked away and told herself, "Let's be pure and unsinful,  _Miss Avery_." Her tone came off as a replica of Venable's.

Taking in a long breath, Coraline dunked her head underneath the water.  _Warm_. It was all warm. The water reminded her of sunshine, flowers, and the beautiful California sky.

But then her vision went dark –  _real dark_. Coraline's mouth dried out. She couldn't feel her arms anymore; they couldn't  _pull her up_. The visions took control. Her third eye was opening, rolling in her forehead.

The vision came and went like the strike of a lightning bolt. Coraline stood in the middle of the barren wasteland outside, except she wasn't in a hazard suit. She wore a thin shirt and jeans, and began to scratch at the base of her throat. The air was  _toxic_. She couldn't breathe or call out for help.

Something was coming out of the fog. Coraline, holding her jugular, stepped forward on the ground of animal bones and ash. A black carriage ran forward, being led by two dark horses, who looked like they had no eyes. They were heading straight for her, not keen on stopping. Coraline reached out and opened her mouth, but she was thrown backward without warning.

She saw a pair of dark eyes. Not just any pair, like a pretty brown that reminded her of chocolate. They were  _black_ , and they echoed across her eyes in a kaleidoscope collage. Black eyes were everywhere – haunting her,  _reminding her_.

A voice seethed in the darkness, " _This is only the beginning, Coraline_."

She was knocked out of the vision suddenly, causing her head to immediately come up from under the bubbles. Water sprayed from her nose as she shook her hair. Coraline choked and spat out water that entered her throat. "You're okay," she repeated to herself, trying to prevent herself from either vomiting or panicking. Her breathing was hot and heavy as she whipped her head around. She looked at her face in the mirror.

No black eyes.

#####  **__________________________**

She was the last to arrive at dinner.

Coraline's long, mauve dress swept against the wooden floorboards, almost causing her to trip several times. A Grey by the name of Mallory helped her find the dining room, which resided right by the end of the staircase leading to the suites. Everyone eyed Coraline with suspicion as she entered the hall, taking in the silky gown that clung to her in all the right places.  _She hated it_.

The table was long, seating multiple people that she would have to call other survivors. A few young, college students. A wealthy-looking, homosexual couple. A woman who looked  _too goddamn old_  to be a survivor. A blonde who seemed to be a wannabe Instagram influencer – you know, when Instagram existed. A lanky man with hair so bleached that it looked yellow, and yet, he was probably the most stylish in the room. Even fucking  _Dinah Stevens_  was there. Coraline remembered when her mother used to watch her show every morning.

Coraline decided to take a seat beside the stylish man, aware of the fact that he kept his eyes trained on her. Everyone already had their dinner in front of them as Coraline sat down. She cringed at the sight of the tiny gelatin square, which was placed in front of her a second later.

"You're fresh meat, aren't you?" The man beside her whispered, causing Coraline to jump slightly. He looked at her from over a pair of purple glasses, and his eyes shifted to the gelatin on her plate. "That's all we get. Don't be too disappointed."

"This cube contains every vitamin your body needs," Dinah explained, "or so they tell us."

Coraline raised a brow, sticking her fork into the gelatin and examining it. It was almost fully clear, aside from the purple milky portion at the bottom. After a moment of hesitation, she bit into it, chewing slowly. Nothing. It tasted like  _nothing_.

"Fuck this  _bullshit_!" The blonde, wannabe influencer shouted, standing up from her seat. "For a hundred  _million_ dollars a ticket, I expect  _goddamn_  Gordon Ramsay in the kitchen!"

The man leaned over to Coraline's ear. "Can you tell she's never worked a day in her life?" Meeting his eyes, Coraline snickered.

The sound of a cane stomping against the floor came from a distance, before finally stopping behind the blonde female. Coraline placed the rest of the gelatin cube in her mouth as she saw Ms. Venable emerged from the darkness with Ms. Mead by her side. The blonde turned, earning an immediate slap from Venable.

"I'm going to be very clear so there will be no misunderstanding," Venable seethed. "We have enough nutrition for the next eighteen months, and if our situation doesn't improve, you can count on less and less."

Coraline swallowed her meal as the stylish man on her right raised a hand. " _Situation_? What  _is_ our situation?"

Venable had been ready to march off, but upon hearing the man's question, she turned with a frown. "We had a perimeter alert this morning," she explained with a grim expression. "Something penetrated the grounds. It was carrier pigeon carrying a message from our benefactors."

"A  _pigeon_?" The blonde exclaimed. "Can we eat it?"

Ms. Mead rolled her eyes, handing Venable the small letter. "It was  _contaminated_ by the  _fallout_."

Venable unraveled the scroll and read aloud, "There are no more governments. Only rotting mounds of corpses – too many to bury."

 _Like mom_ , Coraline thought to herself. A tear threatened to escape her eye, but she held it in.

"Starving people killed for a piece of bread," Venable continued. "Three outposts have been overrun. We are the last vestiges of civilized life on the planet.  _Be vigilant_."

It was all suddenly hitting her now – the  _actual reality_ she was living in. Everyone in this room were the last forms of human life on earth.  _Coraline Avery_  was one of the last humans left  _alive_. What made her so  _special_  to be saved? Surely, it couldn't be genetics.

"Everything we know is gone," Ms. Mead added. Coraline wanted to ask if that meant memories as well, but she kept her mouth shut.

A dark-skinned man, looking vaguely like Dinah, shook his head. "In just a  _few days_? That's all it took?"

"The world was always fragile," Ms. Mead whispered. "It made you think the system was a rock. It was a water balloon. One prick of the needle and –" She made a popping sound with her mouth. "That's all it took."

"We will only survive," Venable breathed out, "if we  _follow the rules_."

Coraline bit her lip hard. Her stomach felt queasy, and she  _knew_ it wasn't because of the gelatin dinner resting inside of her. Ms. Mead's narrowed stare connected with her own. A flash of resemblance appeared in her light blue eyes. Her face was hard and sullen, as if it hardly ever aged. She looked like the Ms. Mead she once knew, the woman who wanted her as far away as possible.

Miriam Mead once scared her. But now, all Coraline wanted was her old neighbor to remember.


	20. DESPERATE TIMES

#### ACT II: STRANGERS

##### CHAPTER TWENTY

#####  **__________________________**

 

**_18 MONTHS LATER_ **   
  
  


**EVERYONE**  thought the Cooperative was coming to save them a year ago. They never did. Nuclear winter came, and it finished off anything left alive from the bombs.

The only thing that changed about Coraline Avery was that she was another year into her twenties. The rest of her life had become continuous. Her visions were coming sparingly now, almost one every four months. She wondered if there was some kind of barrier in her mind now, but truthfully, she hardly knew a thing about her visions anyways, even after all these years. Throughout the past eighteen months, her previous one continued. She kept reliving the black eyes arriving to Outpost 3. After seeing the same pair for several months, one would think she would have an  _inkling_ of who the person was. But she had  _nothing_. You could only assume so much from black eyes and a white face.

Miriam Mead  _still_  didn't remember a goddamn thing about her. At this point, Coraline was convinced Ms. Mead either blocked out every memory she had with Coraline, or she was simply playing a game with her. Sometimes, Coraline would mention small memories she had of Miriam to her, but the older woman would give her a perplexed expression and walk away. She looked at Coraline like she  _did_ recognize — deep down — but still ... she refused to acknowledge it. It was so  _frustrating_. Out of all people for Coraline to be stuck with after the Apocalypse, it was her Satanic neighbor from high school, and the woman somehow didn't remember her.

The no sex rule, or she should say the "no unauthorized copulation" rule, grew on her over time. Coraline didn't have sex with a lot of people before the End, unless alcohol was involved –  _then_ she became dangerous. But upon entering this enclosed facility, she thought that maybe –  _just maybe_  – she could've found the love of her life here. Call her old-fashioned, but in the means of the end of the world, she started to think irrationally. She was hoping her life would end up like those young adult romance novels she used to read.

She was dead wrong. Most of the men encapsulating the facility were gay. No luck, no fairytale ending. Her finger became her best friend, even though she wasn't a fan of masturbation. She would simply do it in the confines of her bedroom, mainly in her bathtub, because God knows she had all the time in the world now. While the earth got cold and deadlier, Coraline sat in her warm tub, thinking about the men she used to kiss and trying to get herself off. It was  _so much_ work, even with the entertaining thoughts of Gabriel, who was probably a pile of ash now.

These were  _truly_  desperate times.

She tried her best to get used to her new house mates, but eighteen months didn't do  _that_ much. Coco St. Pierre Vanderbilt was probably the most annoying human life form that Coraline had ever met, one that  _totally_ didn't deserve to survive the fallout. She never shut up and would constantly bring up to Coraline that she looked like she "didn't belong there." Coraline didn't care about her opinion, because while she  _had_ lost everything, she did have a lot of money once, but explaining that part would cause Coco's puny brain to melt.

Coco was frequently accompanied by Mallory, the Grey servant Coraline had met on her first day. Mallory was kind and smart, but hardly had a personality. She had this monotone voice, and Coraline occasionally tried to get some excitement out of her, but that never helped. She liked talking to Mallory, though sometimes it was like talking to a corpse. Coraline didn't have many people left, so she had to make do.

Timothy and Emily stayed out of her way, probably because they having sex behind Ms. Venable's back. They made it  _super_ obvious, and all Coraline wanted to do was expose them to the others, but she wasn't –  _above all things_  – a snitch. It just pissed her off that she had to get off by her own finger while two former-college students were shacking it up next door.

It was cool to get to know a celebrity like Dinah Stevens, but Coraline came to find out that the woman liked to speak in soap opera dialogue and Oprah quotes. That became tiring after a while. Not to mention that her son, Andre, was always crying. After his boyfriend, Stu, became – well – the literal  _stew_ , Andre was never seen without tears streaming down his face. His lover was found to be contaminated over a year ago, but Andre wouldn't get over it.

Evie Gallant was a fucking  _enigma_ most of the time. Like most of the others, she never kept her mouth shut, always flapping her gums in her loud accent. She used to live a lifestyle full of wealth and gluttony, but somehow, living off one ration of food a day didn't bother her. She considered it a form of "dieting." However, when the "Stu Stew" had been served, she didn't hesitate to eat every last drop. Even after Venable told them the stew wasn't made from their fallen comrade, none of them dared to eat it. But Evie ... she was a brave soul.

The only person Coraline somehow seemed to tolerate was Evie's grandson, who asked her to call him Mr. Gallant. He used to be a famous hairstylist from Santa Monica, but now the only person he had to work on was Coco's dry and lifeless hair. He was funny though, Coraline would give him that. He didn't look at her weirdly either, not like the rest of the rich house mates surrounding them. Coraline guessed it was because he was the only person, besides Ms. Venable and Ms. Mead, to know her last name. Once he found out she was well-known businessman, Jacob Avery's, daughter, he revealed, "Are you  _kidding_ me, Cor?! I used to cut your daddy's hair! It was always  _so_ soft. You're lucky I didn't jump his bones, but I heard he had a girlfriend."

Jacob Avery also had a wife too, at one point, but Coraline decided to keep quiet about that.

Her newfound friendship with Gallant did have it's perks though. Despite having to endure the presence of his irritating grandmother, Coraline got a fresh cut whenever she asked. As September 2022 came along, Coraline decided it was time for a new look, and allowed Gallant to style her hair into a new, fresh bob. She hadn't had her hair cut to her shoulders since – well, since the bombs dropped. Coraline remembered when bobs were the latest fashion, back in 2018, and that memory made her sad.

Actually, the whole fucking Outpost made her sad. She felt guilty. Not just of her past, but because she was chosen to survive. Whoever the guy was that decided she was a right fit for the last of mankind, clearly didn't realize how incapable an idle woman with visions could be, especially one that was only predicting the sight of black eyes.

She didn't realize how soon she would see those black eyes in person.

#####  **__________________________**

" _God_ ," Coraline whispered, staring down at her plate as a Grey set it in front of her. The food never changed. Her eyes were dead and her stomach churned. She wanted to put earplugs in her ears. "I'm so fucking  _tired_ of hearing this damn Maureen McGovern song. It's been –"

Ms. Venable tapped her cane against the hard floorboard, signaling her entrance. Her dark eyes scanned the room and took in everyone's battered appearance. She had to fight a smile from reaching her lips. It was so difficult  _not_ to laugh at Coco's hair, which looked like she had been struck by lightening.

"I have an announcement," Venable exclaimed, taking her seat at the head of the table. The fireplace crackled behind her, causing a shadow to cast over her face.

Coraline felt her chest grow tight, and she didn't know if it was from anxiety or her constricting corset. While shifting her gaze to Ms. Venable, she sliced through the small, gelatin rectangle with her fork and chewed quickly.

Venable pursed her lips. "This will be our last breakfast. We're cutting back to one meal a day."

"You can't be  _serious_ ," Coco scoffed.

"An effective dieting technique," Evie commented.

Coraline narrowed her eyes. "That's not dieting. That's called  _starving ourselves_."

"How are we supposed to survive on half a cube?!" Gallant asked, furrowing his brow towards Venable.

"It's not optimal, but also not  _impossible_ ," Ms. Venable argued with a pointed stare. "Either way we have no choice. Not if we want to keep eating at all."

Coraline looked to the ceiling and shook her head. So  _this_ was how they really died. They were allowed to survived for only a short time, but they were always going to slowly die out because of a lack of food. Perfect. When was the plot twist going to hit? The one where they suddenly found more food and they stayed alive for a few more months? Coraline rubbed at her temples. It was foolish to even think that way. She didn't know why she tried.

If she was going to die, this was the  _worst way_. She wanted her death to be quick, free of pain. Looks like she wasn't getting her happy ending.

Gallant shook his head wildly. "I fucking can't do this anymore!" He waved his hands around as he exclaimed, "I can't! I fucking can't!"

"We don't know how strong we are until we have to face adversity," Dinah preached while standing up. She smiled proudly. "This could be an opportunity for all of us to grow."

Gallant picked up his fork and pointed it in Dinah's direction. "If you finish that bumper sticker shit you used to say on your show, then I'm strong enough to shove this fork in  _your_  neck!"

Coco yanked down on Gallant's purple dress shirt as Coraline seethed, "Sit down!"

"What  _is_ the point of all of this?!" Coco shrieked, mouth wobbling as she fought back tears. On her right, Venable and Ms. Mead shared a glance. "Starving, killing each other, getting shot. All we're doing is waiting around to find out how we die!"

The room was silent for a moment, with Ms. Venable scowling in each of their directions. Finally, Coraline leaned forward and pointed her fork in Coco's direction. "You know," she muttered, "that's probably the smartest thing Coco has said in the last year and a half."

Mallory nodded her head quickly. "I say we take our chances outside."

"She's right," Gallant agreed. "We gotta get out of here! Who's with me?"

Ms. Mead's eyes turned dark as they landed on Gallant. It sent a shiver down Coraline's spine. "Nobody's going  _anywhere_ ," she warned.

Gallant huffed. He picked up his plate then, and before his grandmother could stop him, he threw it across the room. The plate cracked against the wall instantly, creating a dent in the cement. It shattered and sent pieces scattering across the floor. The room was utterly silent, with the exception of Maureen McGovern's classic hit, "The Morning After," playing loudly in the background. No one dared to breathe as Gallant turned to his superiors with a heated expression. The candles flickered, their flames swiveling.

"What are  _you_ gonna do?!" Gallant screeched, kicking his chair back. "Shoot us all?  _Huh_?!"

The song, combined with Gallant's screams, was nauseating. Coraline plugged her fingers into her ears, but she could  _still_  hear it all. A panic washed over her.

_There's got to be a morning after ... We're moving closer to the shore ..._

Gallant jumped in the air, waving his arms around. "WHAT ARE YOU GONNA  _DO_?!" He continued with frustration. "Shoot me, for all I fucking care! It's better than dying a slow and painful death!"

_I know we'll be there by tomorrow ... And we'll escape the darkness ..._

Evie rolled her eyes and pointed her fork towards her grandson. "Can you  _please_  –"

" _You_  – shut up," Gallant hissed through clenched teeth.

_We won't be searching anymore ..._

Coraline rocked herself back and forth, screaming, "EVERYONE  _SHUT UP_!" Her nails were scraping the insides of her earlobes the more she dug them in, if that was even possible. She wanted the silence again. It was so much more comfortable. She wanted Evie to stop condemning her grandson. She wanted Gallant to stop yelling. And she, especially, wanted this stupid,  _fucking_ Maureen McGovern song to  _cease_ –

Ms. Mead was ready to stun him. Venable's chair scraped against the floor as she stood. Before she could announce a proper punishment, an alarm began to blare in their ears. Coraline's eyes searched around the room, wondering if she was hearing that through her plugged-up ears. The chandelier above their heads began to reflect an intense red. Everyone stood from their seats, looking around, but Coraline kept her butt firmly in it's place, afraid to even move.

"Perimeter alert," the Fist, one Venable's armed guards, claimed. "There's been a breach."

Ms. Venable's brow knitted together. She stepped forward with confusion, but followed her colleague nonetheless. The alarms continued to boom as Ms. Mead trailed her associates, until only the survivors were left in the room. The emergency sounds reminded Coraline of the day the world ended, and before she could reflect on that horrible date, silence engulfed the room.

No more alarms. No more music. No more screams.

Then the radio shifted static. A familiar tune rang through the speakers. Maureen McGovern's shaky voice turned into a male's: " _Got a wife and kids in Baltimore, Jack ... I went out for a ride and I never went back ..._ "

The song was memorable. Coraline would know this song anywhere, even with the static echoing in the background of the old radio. She knew the rhythm of the guitar, the beat of the drums, the tempo of the base. It was a classic. The group of survivors scrunched up their brows, confusion covering all their faces.

_Like a river that don't know where it's flowing ... I took a wrong turn and I just kept going ..._

Coraline tore her fingers from her ears and stood up, not believing the next lyrics to blast from the radio.

_Everybody's got a hungry heart!_

A scream clogged in her throat. This wasn't it. He  _couldn't_  have survived the End. No – it  _couldn't_  be. Not now. Not when they were going to die soon. Not after what he almost did.  Not after what  _she_ did to him. Not after the Apocalypse.

"No," she shook her head violently, "no  _fucking_ way." It had been five years –  _five, long years_. It hadn't been long enough. Coraline stared ahead, frozen in place.

_He found her_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that half of this chapter is just info-dumping, but MANZ IS HERE I REPEAT MANZ IS HERE


	21. COOPERATING

#### ACT II: STRANGERS

##### CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

#####  **__________________________**

**CORALINE**  didn't sleep that night.

After the perimeter alert finally shut off, they didn't hear from Ms. Venable for the rest of the day. Coraline tried to convince herself that her suspicions weren't true, that she shouldn't believe coincidences so quickly, but it was hard to tell what was real and what wasn't anymore. She stayed in her room the whole day, refusing to attend dinner. She didn't know what she would face downstairs. Starving herself was better than knowing the truth. She wasn't missing much anyways. The gelatin cubes tasted the same as ever.

When night came along, Coraline tossed and turned in her bed. She kicked off the sheets several times, only to curl them back around her. It felt like her pajamas were constricting her, or maybe it was just her chest. Some people liked to count sheep to fall asleep, but she thought – somehow – staring at her bedside candle long enough would help. (It didn't.) She could still hear "Hungry Heart" through the radio downstairs, reverberating through her floor. Coraline bit her lip so hard she almost popped a blood vessel.

She eventually drew a bath. Coraline didn't know what time it was, but she guessed it was sometime in the early morning. No doubt she would have bags under her eyes the next day. For some reason, she felt like someone was watching her as she slipped herself into the tub. The water was so hot that it was steaming, and it burned against her skin. She liked it though. It was always so cold in the Outpost.

Bruce Springsteen's voice was consistent through the floorboards. She dragged a hand down her face, trying to focus on something else. Coraline felt like she was going insane. She thought she left that part of her when she graduated high school, but Crazy Coraline was still alive and well.

The water hadn't even gotten cold before Coraline determined that it wasn't helping. She just needed to get in her bed again. Maybe she'd be able to sleep now that she felt clean. Dragging a towel down her bare body, Coraline felt a breeze whisk by her. She straightened her back, tying the red towel around herself. Droplets of water fell to the floor and wet hair laid across her back in clumps. Coraline chewed on the inside of her cheek and scanned the bathroom. Nothing moved but the flames atop of her candles.

Coraline rolled her eyes and turned around to her mirror. Taking her brush in one hand, she used the other to wipe the fog off the reflective glass. As she began to brush out the tangles in her hair, Coraline finally looked at herself in the mirror, but she didn't just see herself.

Two black eyes. White face.

Coraline gasped, spinning around on her heel with the hairbrush in front of her, as if it were a weapon. Her towel started to slip off her body, but she managed to hold it there as she looked around the barren bathroom. She breathed heavily through her nostrils. Everything was the same. No black eyes. No white face. Coraline licked her lips and tried to compose herself, but couldn't help the tremble that crawled up her spine, tickling her fear.

No one had been there.

#####  **__________________________**

Ms. Mead had to drag Coraline to finally get her out of her suite. After dinner, Ms. Venable proclaimed that they had an important meeting to attend, one that  _everyone_ had to be present for. Coraline was glad she skipped dinner the night before. According to Gallant, the Greys served them live snakes in a broth. But skipping tonight was out of the question, and lucky for her, they were back to the usual gelatin cubes. At least, that dreaded Bruce Springsteen song wasn't playing any longer.

Apparently, everyone was just as suspicious as she was about yesterday's perimeter alarm. Something smelled different, and it wasn't from the snake broth they tried to cook. The  _whole_  Outpost had a different scent, like a mix of roses and blood – the perfume of death.

As Emily cut into her cube, she asked the question that everyone had been dying to voice: "So who's in your office?"

Venable's face had hardened. Everyone was staring at her as she played with her earring and adjusted her tunic. She wanted to laugh at their curiosity, knowing that it would kill them all someday. She met Ms. Mead's eyes with a smile. Instead of chuckling, she settled on the response, "All questions will be answered in due course. Eat."

A few Grey servants made sure the library was presentable as the survivors gathered inside for a meeting. Venable waited in front of the fireplace with her hands clasped around her cane and Ms. Mead at her side, like always. Everyone sat delicately on the old, leather couches, with the exception of Andre, who stood behind Dinah and placed a hand on her shoulder. Coraline also stood with Mallory in the back, leaning herself against a bureau. She played with the necklace hanging on her collarbones, squeezing her fingers around it over and over again. Her corset felt tighter than ever. She couldn't wait to leave the meeting and rip off this disgusting, purple catastrophe.

The perfume of death became stronger then. Footsteps echoed down the hall. The smell was almost too much to bear as a man stepped into the room.

Coraline's breath hitched in her throat.

Long blonde hair –  _the color of sunshine_ – now reached his shoulders. Blue eyes and a perfectly straight nose. Sharp cheekbones that had only gotten sharper. He even had  _red eye shadow_ in the inner corners of his eyes. Almost the same person she was knew, except ...  _it wasn't_.

Coraline couldn't believe that her suspicions had been correct. How had  _this_ happened? Out of the entire population on Earth, she was supposed to believe that  _they_  were two of the survivors left standing? Time seemed to slow as she watched him enter the room, pausing to stare ahead at Ms. Venable. Coraline placed a hand over her mouth and wondered if he had been a member of this famous Cooperative that no one shut up about. If he had – Coraline suddenly  _knew_  why she had been chosen, and she didn't think it was because he wanted her to survive the fallout. Not after her abandoning him. Was he known to hold grudges?

He strode with the intensity of an enraged lion – careful, precise, but confident enough to strike. Everyone was silent –  _pure, fucking silent_. The thing that Coraline wanted for so long finally terrified her. The only sound that could be heard was his boots clicking against the floor. His robes fit the shape of his body perfectly, which had grown even more since she last saw him. Coraline felt the bile rise in her jugular.

He met Venable from her position in front of the fireplace. She smiled at him in a snarky way, but when she realized he was glaring at her to move, she hesitantly stepped out of the way. With a dark grin, Michael took over her spot and glanced to each survivor in the room.

Except, he didn't look at Coraline. He didn't even bat an  _eyelash_ her way, and she was standing at the far end of the room, right in his direct line of vision. He ignored her, as if she didn't exist.

"My name is Langdon and I represent the Cooperative."

Coraline's whole body was trembling. She wrapped her exposed arms around her torso and squeezed her legs shut, cocooning herself as she tried to suppress an angry scream.  _Langdon_ , she thought,  _that's what he's going by now?_ This had to be some kind of weird game, and she was going to be the toy.  _Like hell I am_.

Despite her contained fury, Coraline had felt the familiar electricity from years ago. As soon as her gaze lingered on him, the threads were alive, glittering all around her and reaching out to touch him. But she was stronger now – stronger than any immature connection he once told her they had. It would be so easy to touch his hand again ... But she didn't want to and neither did he. For all she knew, he had brought her to the Outpost to be killed.

"I won't sugar coat the situation," he spoke, cocking his head to the side. Still, no eye contact. "Humanity is on the brink of failure. My arrival here was crucial to the survival of civilized life on Earth."

_Look at me, look at me, look at me_ , she begged in her head.  _Look at me and see my anger, Michael Langdon. I know that you put me here for a reason. Look at me, you fucking coward._

Michael continued, "The three other compounds in Syracuse, New York, Beckley, West Virginia, and San Angelo, Texas have been overrun and destroyed. We've had no contact from the six international outposts, but we are assuming that they,  _too_ , have been eliminated."

Coraline noticed that he spoke with his hands now. She used to love his hands because they were big and held her small fingers like they fit perfectly in his palm. He was showing them off now with a few rings snugged on each hand, flashing his newfound wealth, she guessed.

Timothy raised a hand. "What happened to the people inside?"

"Massacred," Michael hissed, tilting his head in Timothy's direction. Coraline squeezed her limbs tighter around herself. "The same fate that will befall almost all of you."

" _Almost all_?" Mallory repeated, scoffing softly. Michael nodded towards her, hardly turning his head just a  _smidge_ to see Coraline on Mallory's right.

_You little dipshit_ , Coraline thought.  _Don't you dare fucking ignore me._

"In the knowledge that this very moment might occur, we built a failsafe." Michael held out his hands, as if he were giving them a gift. "The Sanctuary."

Coco wrinkled her nose. " _The_   _Sanctuary_?"

"The Sanctuary is  _unique_ ," he replied, turning away. Michael leaned back slightly and kept his eyes on the survivors' peculiar stares – all  _except Coraline_. "It has certain security measures that will prevent overrun."

"Excuse me, sir – what  _measures_?" Ms. Mead asked, raising a brow. "Why weren't we given them?" Coraline's face twisted. Miriam didn't recognize him  _either_?

Michael held up a hand, but kept the other on his chest. "That's classified. All that matters is that the Sanctuary will  _survive_ , so that the people populating it will  _survive_ , so humanity will ...  _survive_."

"And  _who_  are the people that are populating it?" Andre inquired skeptically.

" _Also_ , classified," Michael quipped.

For a moment, Coraline was tempted to voice a question just so he would look at her. She kept her mouth shut, but released the tight hold she had on her body. Her arms and legs were weak from simply being in his aura.

" _However_ ," he continued, "I've been sent to determine if any of you are worthy and fit to join us."

The room erupted in whispers, ranging from excitement to pure disbelief. Coraline's eyes went wide as she realized then the whole reason why she was here. She felt like she was going to throw up everywhere. She already knew she wasn't going to this goddamn Sanctuary, nor did she want to, if that meant she had to endure his dangerous presence day in and day out.

"The Cooperative has developed a particular and rigorous questioning technique we like to call," he grinned, " _Cooperating_."

Coraline snorted and shook her head, earning a glare from Ms. Venable. Michael, however, refused to hear the audible sound.

"I will then use the information gained to determine if you belong," he finished with a satisfied expression.

Coco puckered her red lips. "What is this?  _The_   _Hunger Games_?" She exclaimed, waving her hands in the air. Michael's inquisitive brow rose at her attitude. "This is  _bullshit_. I  _paid_ my way in here, and that is the only 'cooperating' I plan on doing!"

Michael snickered. "You don't have to sit for questioning."

Andrew slowly glanced up. "What happens if we choose not to?"

"Then you stay here and  _die_." Michael's tone was venomous, poison practically oozing from his mouth. It made Coraline's face get warm.

Gallant suddenly raised a hand, receiving a glare from his grandmother. "I volunteer to go first."

"And so,  _you shall_ ," Michael sneered. "The process should only take me a couple of days, unless it is necessary for me to deliberate longer. So, hopefully, you won't be kept in suspense forever. But do realize that I am fond of a good thriller. For those of you who don't make the cut, all is not lost.

"If the worst should happen and feral cannibals come knocking ..." He reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a small vile. "Down one of these. One minute later, you fall asleep, and never wake up."

_What a saint_ , Coraline mocked in her head.

And then it happened.

His eyes were on her. His stare penetrated every bone in her body – stunning her,  _paralyzing her_. Coraline wasn't sure how long he was ogling at her, but it felt like hours. He was direct and provocative, challenging her as he lifted a brow in her direction. She had wanted him to look at her so badly before, just so he could  _feel_  the anger bubbling beneath her skin, but it was too much now. This wasn't what she wanted whatsoever. Coraline's mouth dropped slightly, and she clutched her exposed shoulder. He knew what he was doing. He  _always_ knew what he was doing.

The threads around her were visible and tugging for her to walk forward, but the two refused to move. Michael knew the more he stayed away, the more the connection would haunt her, tease her. He'd come to her when he knew it was time.

"I look forward to meeting each –" His eyes didn't leave Coraline's. "– And  _every one_ of you."

Placing the vile back in his pocket, he nodded Ms. Venable's way and sauntered towards the exit of the room. Coraline kept her gaze forward, breaking the eye contact and trying to keep the frenzy in her mind at bay. She still felt his stare on her, piercing the curiosity and sin brewing deep inside her soul, as he finally left the library.

Venable tapped her cane against the floor, signaling the end of the meeting. Coraline ran to her room immediately and vomited her guts out.


	22. CHEAT THE SYSTEM

#### ACT II: STRANGERS

##### CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

#####  **__________________________**

**GALLANT**  went in for his interview as soon as the meeting ended. Coraline spent that entire time barfing up the cube they ate for dinner that evening, the memory of Michael's stare haunting her brain. She sat by the bathroom in her suite for almost an hour, waiting for the sickness to stop. Once she was sure that everything was finally out of her system, she wiped underneath her nose and flushed the toilet.

There were tears in her eyes. Coraline hated that she always cried while vomiting. She looked herself in the mirror and rubbed at her eyes. "This isn't happening," she whispered, grabbing a towel and scrubbing at her face. Before she could stop herself, Coraline began to scream into her towel.

She didn't think it was that loud. In actuality, the shriek pierced every ear inhabiting the second floor. It was something out of a horror movie, a wailing cry that someone made as the murderer raised an axe to their head. Coraline thought the scream was muffled as she pressed her face further into the towel, remembering Michael's cold gaze, remembering the way their connection was still there, remembering the way his suit clung to his body –

A knock sounded on her door.

She gasped, throwing the towel to the floor. Biting her lip, she almost expected –  _or wanted_ – it to be Michael, but she was wrong. As she cracked open the door just a smidge, Coraline was greeted with the sight of a confused Gallant. She pressed her face into the crack and snapped, "What is it?"

"You look like you've seen a ghost," he chuckled softly.

Coraline swallowed hard. "Maybe I have."

Gallant nodded and cleared his throat. "Well, I just came to check on you. I heard you scream, so –"

"Forget about that," Coraline muttered. She looked around the barren hall and quickly yanked Gallant inside her suite. He stumbled back for a moment as she locked the door shut, straightening her spine. "Did you just get back from your interview?"

Gallant shrugged. "Uh – yeah, why?"

Coraline narrowed her eyes and lifted her hands. Was he seriously being this dense right now?

A moment later, a sly smirk tugged at the ends of his lips. "Ah, so  _that's_  what this is about." He fell back on the bed, propping his elbows up and crossing his legs over each other. "You want to know what to expect."

_Something like that_ , Coraline thought to herself.

"He's  _quite_  the interesting man," Gallant sneered, looking at his cuticles. "Smells great too, like roses. I almost forgot what those smelled like from being holed up in here for so long. But I think I found my way out, Cora. This interview may have opened up the door for me."

Coraline licked her lips and walked over to sit on the bed beside him. Gallant was still grinning from ear to ear, taking in Coraline's perplexed expression. He wasn't sure if it was curiosity or jealousy, but his ego convinced him it was the latter. She noticed he was still looking at his purple-painted fingernails, which made her smack his hand down on the mattress. "Can you pay attention,  _please_?"

"Ow!" Gallant exclaimed, sitting up. "What'd you do that for?"

"I'm trying to have a conversation with you!"

Gallant frowned and realized how tired she looked, how much the meeting seemed to drain her. He wondered why. "It seems to me that you're just interested in my interview with Langdon."

Coraline rolled her eyes. "Can we stop  _this_? Just tell me what M –" She stopped herself, making Gallant raise a brow. "What did  _Langdon_  ask you?"

Gallant smirked, playing with his silver hoop earring. "Things."

"What  _things_?" She pressed on and tapped his leg. " _C'mon_ , Gallant. I thought we were friends? Friends help each other in situations like this."

"Your interview is going to be different anyways," he argued, "at least that's what Langdon implied."

Coraline exhaled through her nostrils. With closed eyes, she rubbed at her temples for a moment. "Just ..." She shook her head. "What did he ask you?"

Gallant paused, watching the confusion cross over her face. She was right. Friends  _do_ help each other in these situations. But then he was reminded of Langdon, of the way he asked about his anger towards his grandmother. He remembered the way Langdon's brow narrowed when he asked him if he liked leather. Langdon was hot, but survival was  _hotter_. If he kept quiet and fucked Langdon, he would be allowed into the Sanctuary  _for sure_. He'd be able to get the best of both worlds. He couldn't help Coraline. No matter how much he wanted to.

"I ..." He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I can't tell you."

Coraline's face fell. Wetting her bottom lip, she replied, "What will it take for you to tell me?" She hesitantly patted a hand on his leg again, even though it killed her.

Gallant scrunched up his brow. "Are you offering to give me a blow job or something?"

" _No_ , I'm just  _saying_  ..." Her voice trailed off, words escaping her. After a moment, she frowned and pulled her hand away. "Okay,  _maybe_  I was. But I just want to know –"

"Listen, Coraline, as much as we are friends, I don't think I should tell you." He said, placing a palm on her arm. "I wouldn't worry about it a lot. Langdon won't allow us to cheat the system. Your interview is going to be different than mine."

She blinked at him, mouth dropping slightly. "I don't understand why you won't tell me  _anything_  –"

"Okay, okay, it's because ..." Gallant's lips curled, his eyes filling with lust. Coraline raised a brow at his strange expression. "Langdon and I ... we have a  _connection_."

Coraline tried to suppress the giggle forming in her throat, but it came out as she pressed the back of her hand to her mouth. "A  _connection_?" She bit her lip to stop her own laughter. "You think Langdon is attracted to you?"

"You didn't feel the heat in the room, Cora," Gallant continued. "He  _wanted_  me. I know it. You're just jealous."

Coraline was sure her brows were so high that they reached her hairline. If only Gallant knew about the  _connection_ she had with Michael in high school. "I'm  _not_ jealous. I just think that you –"

Gallant shook his head and stood up. "Save it. You just wait until he fucks my brains out.  _Then_ , you'll know."

Coraline opened her mouth to reply, but Gallant was already out the door. With a roll of her eyes, she was suddenly reminded of the many times she tried to offer Michael sexual advances for the things he did for her. He always pushed her away. Maybe things were different now. Five years changed a person, and it certainly changed him, just from looks alone. Coraline definitely wasn't the same person, appearance and personality wise.

Maybe he would have sex with Gallant, if that meant Gallant could get into the Sanctuary – whatever  _that_  was. Coraline didn't know if that would really happen; Michael had always been able to charm anyone. But this wasn't her jealousy talking. Definitely,  _not_.

With a long sigh, Coraline fell back on the bed. She  _wasn't_  jealous. Not one bit.

#####  **__________________________**

The perfume of death lingered across every corridor of the Outpost, swimming over the floors of the suites. Coraline thought she was fine, until she fell asleep and the perfume entered her room, tickling her nostrils. She blamed it for the dream she had that night – a dream full of blue eyes and long, blonde ringlets. A dream where large hands gripped her hips, pulling her forward as she rode a man's lap. His touch burned and sizzled her exposed skin. She felt blood coating her entire chest, but she didn't care. It warmed her; it  _excited_ her. The stranger's lips roamed every part of her skin, biting and claiming his territory. The perfume made her dreams run wild.

Coraline woke up in a cold sweat. A few candles were still lit and flickering faintly. She swallowed hard and felt the goosebumps on her arms. Coraline shook her head, wiping the sweat on her brow. Even her pajamas were soaked in sweat. She rubbed at her nose, deciding to get up and change. However, she didn't put on a new pair of pajamas. At this late of an hour, she could break dress code – just this once.

She managed to find a pair of mauve dress pants deep within her closet, leaving her to guess that this room might've been meant for a male before she came along. The pants were big and didn't fit, but there was nothing a belt couldn't fix. She buttoned on a purple blouse, as well as a white cardigan, before slipping on a pair of shoes and grabbing a candlestick.

There was no one awake, not even a Grey in sight. Coraline tiptoed down the winding stairs, trying to be as quiet as she could, but it was difficult in her heeled boots. She hugged her sweater close to her body when a breeze ran by her. The perfume wasn't present, allowing her a moment to actually  _breathe_.

She arrived in the kitchen and set down her candle on a cutting board. Maybe a midnight snack would help her, especially if she was now only having one meal a day. That could've been the reason for her foul dream. She was just hungry.

The fridge was kept behind an unlocked door, weirdly enough. It took Coraline a few tries to wiggle the handle, but it eventually released for her. She opened the fridge door, almost blinded from the bright light inside. Feeling her stomach growl, she found stacks upon stacks of those goddamn gelatin cubes. She had to take what she could get.

She took out an uncut tray from the fridge and shut it with her hip. Tearing the invisible wrap from the top, Coraline grabbed a sharp knife and cut a skinny slice off the edge of the gelatin tray. No one would notice if she cut a long, vertical slice. At least, she hoped they wouldn't.

Placing the tray back in the fridge, she began to cut her slice into cubes. Coraline felt like a cat as she slipped multiple pieces into her mouth and licking her fingers. She tilted her head back, hoping this would cure her tainted dreams and stomach pains.

But then she heard a creak in the floorboard.

Coraline finished off the gelatin cube and looked up as the sound reached her ears. She was suddenly gripping the knife tightly. There was another presence in the room. Coraline hoped then that her past crimes prepared her to use a knife. She had never killed anyone with her bare hands, but she was willing to if someone found her eating the stash of food meant for everyone. If she was going to die, it wasn't going to be for something as silly as  _this_.

She spun around quickly, knife pointed out to the perpetrator lingering against the kitchen doorway. When she realized it was Michael, she still kept the knife in place. The perfume of death was  _everywhere_. Coraline wasn't scared of him, even as he stared at her like he wanted to kill her. She doubted he ever could, but maybe that was foolish to assume.

"Coraline Rose Avery," he greeted, sauntering further into the room. Thankfully for Coraline, a kitchen island separated them further.

She felt the electric connection tug her forward. Coraline took one step, the knife shaking in her hand, but stopped herself when she realized what the threads were doing. She swallowed hard, wondering if she should call him Michael or Langdon, or even address him at all. If she was quick enough, she could probably dart past him and run back to her room.

But truthfully, Coraline really didn't want to do that, even if she wouldn't admit it.

"What are you doing up so late?" He asked, nose wrinkling slightly. Was that concern in his tone, or just suspicion?

"I should be the one asking you questions," she whispered. After a moment of hesitation, Coraline dropped the knife to her side and approached the kitchen island. She placed her hands on the dark wood and slid the knife forward. "Why are you  _here_?"

Michael smiled devilishly. "Your curiosity hasn't changed," he replied, stepping forward and feeling his own threads reach for her. He began to round the kitchen island, dragging his fingers across the surface. "I'm here because I am part of the Cooperative. Have I not made that clear yet?"

Coraline's jaw shifted. "Is that your snarky way of telling me that this is all just  _pure coincidence_? What am I supposed to think after I'm chosen as a survivor at the end of the world, and then you just show up out of  _nowhere_?" Bile was rising in her throat, and she tried to desperately push it back down. "The last time I saw you, you tried to kill everyone I went to high school with,  _including_ innocent people. Are you trying to haunt me again for leaving you, or are you here for some kind of weird Satanist plan?"

With a smirk, Michael crossed his arms over his chest. Coraline's eyes raked down his outfit. He hadn't changed at all, not even into a pair of sleeping clothes. Her breathing was heavy as she wondered how soft his hair must feel.

She lifted her chin then, narrowing her stare. "How'd you find me?"

"I didn't," he quipped, circling the island once again. "Why can't you just accept the coincidence?"

Coraline's eyes formed into slits as he stood in front of her, looking down with his long lashes. If he took one more step, they would be inches from each other, and she knew their connection would go into a frenzy.

"Because I was your friend at one point,  _Michael_." Her tone was full of toxicity as she spat out his first name. "I learned not to trust pretty words from pretty men so easily."

He did exactly what she hoped he wouldn't: Michael stepped forward again, causing Coraline to press her back against the kitchen island. She gripped the lip of the wood tightly, grinding her teeth together. Her heartbeat quickened as threads tugged at his hand that remained on his side, begging it to touch her. Her legs instinctively squeezed themselves shut. Coraline felt her spine hurt while she continued to push herself away from Michael, but he trapped her in.

"Oh," Michael shook his head, "I think we were a little more than friends, Coraline."

She was stunned for a moment. His tone was different, yet so familiar. In the meeting, he had spoken with authority, dominating the room. But now, it was ... calming, more reserved. He sounded young again, like the sunshine boy she once knew.

He hummed underneath his breath and stood upright. "I believe it's time for your questioning."

Coraline knitted her brow together and hugged her white cardigan closer. "At  _midnight_?"

"Actually, it's one in the morning, but you don't seem to be busy, correct?" He tilted his head to the side, before walking away and tying his hands behind his back. Coraline watched him with confusion. He looked back to her again, gesturing for him to follow her with his hand. "You act as if I'm going to kill you."

"And why shouldn't I think that way?"

Michael smirked further. "Don't worry about the questioning, Coraline," he assured, holding out a hand. "I won't ask you to get blood on your white sweater again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you couldn't tell, writing tension is my favorite thing omfg


	23. THE INTERVIEW

#### ACT II: STRANGERS

##### CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

#####  **__________________________**

**MICHAEL'S**  suite was bigger than anyone else's in the building. Coraline felt weird following him to it and lingering behind his every move. She looked over her shoulder several times to make sure no one was watching her. Venable was not around, not even a Grey, but it still felt like there were multiple eyes watching as Michael led her to his office.

His room was twice the size of her own. He had a large sitting area with a fireplace and two big, leather chairs. The flames crackled and burned as he held the door open for her. She eyed him precariously before stepping inside, rubbing her sweaty palms on her pants. Coraline jumped slightly when he closed and locked the door behind her. Michael then walked past her to his desk, perched between the fireplace and a closed area, which she guessed was his bedroom.

"So," he spoke loudly,  _eloquently_ , "any reason why you're breaking dress code at this hour?"

Coraline wrapped her cardigan tighter around herself. "I didn't expect anyone to find me."

Michael smirked and sat down at his desk. Coraline noticed another chair was placed at the other end of the table, which he gestured for her to sit in. Her feet were frozen. "Are you sure we shouldn't do this another time?" She asked, biting her lip. "Some time more ...  _professional_?"

"Professionalism isn't my forte," he retorted, glancing down at her teeth digging into her bottom lip. Michael crossed one leg over the other and leaned back in his chair. " _Sit_ , please."

Coraline licked her lips and cracked her knuckles before finally making her way over to the chair. His eyes were on her the whole time, calculating every movement. She strode with such confidence before, but under his gaze ... she almost seemed timid. Coraline didn't like feeling that way, like she wasn't in the know. This whole interview process was  _nearly_  frightening, since she  _knew_ the man sitting before her, but she wasn't scared of him. His judgmental stare would  _never_  terrify her. Him being some kind of Chosen One or involved in the End times didn't  _matter_  either. Coraline Avery  _wasn't_ scared of Michael Langdon.

She sat down and turned her head to the fireplace again. It looked like he had just lit it. She wondered if he had been up because he was focused on the interviews he had so far, or if he was maybe thinking about her. The latter was difficult to bear.

His stare was still on her. He grazed a finger over his mouth as he watched the orange light of the fire dance through her grey eyes. After a minute, she faced him again and pursed her lips. "So are you going to ask me questions, or are you going to sit there and stare at me?"

"Which one would you prefer?"

She paused, looking from his eyes to his wicked lips. "I would like to get this over with so I can sleep."

Michael snickered under his breath, rubbing a finger over his lip. "The rules are simple, Miss Avery –"

"Don't call me that," she interrupted, unafraid to stop herself. "You know my name, and you said you're not one for professionalism anyways."

He raised a brow at her attitude, but continued nonetheless, "If you edge, I will know. If you lie, I will know. And if you try to trick me, I will know, and this interview will be over. You will die here,  _painfully_. Are we clear?"

Coraline had to bite her lip to suppress a giggle. Michael noticed it instantly, causing his teeth to grind. "Why are you  _laughing_?"

"Nothing, nothing," she shrugged, turning her face away to release a snort. "I just find it hard to believe that you would kill me." When her stare connected with his again, she noticed his eyes were challenging her, as if expecting her to make a wrong move. Coraline leaned back in her chair, placing one elbow on the arm. "How will you  _really_ know if I lie?"

"I have the ability to see into the darkest of places that people try to keep hidden."

" _Funny_ ," she replied, resting her chin in her hand, "I thought my visions were once used to do that for you."

Michael grinned. "I've perfected my craft."

Coraline felt something implode in the pit of her stomach, causing her back to straighten. Her legs tensed up, winding themselves together tightly. The fire made the room hot, and she found herself pushing up the sleeves of her white sweater. Michael's gaze moved down, like he knew the sudden effect he had on her. Coraline parted her lips and decided to ignore it, despite their connection reaching for each other with a thunderous effort.

"Can I ask you something before we start?" She watched his mouth open, but before he could object, she continued, "I've been at this Outpost for more than a  _year_ , with a woman who looks exactly like Miriam Mead, yet she claims I'm a stranger.  _Why_?"

He laughed softly. "Because that's not her. Ms. Mead, sadly, left us a long time ago. I won't get into the gory details, but I was adamant that her memory should live on. So I had her created. She doesn't know you. She doesn't even know me."

Coraline was perplexed, but decided not to question his motives. Was he insinuating that this new Ms. Mead was ...  _not human_? She wouldn't be surprised. The year 2020 brought new inventions, like  _real_ hoverboards and smart-flying cars. Androids didn't really seem like a foreign concept.

Michael watched her grow quiet and place a strand of dark hair behind her ear. His brow scrunched up upon noticing a certain symbol on arm. "Do you believe in God, Coraline?" He asked, grabbing a folder from a stack to his right and flipping it open.

"I don't know what I believe," she answered, lacing her fingers together. Coraline watched his fingers sort through the papers before him. Her mouth felt suddenly dry. "I mean, if God does exist, why would he let Armageddon happen?"

"So why do you have a tattoo of a cross on your wrist?"

Coraline blinked, mouth opening in surprise. She stared at him for a long while, knowing that he enjoyed the way he stunned her. It was cruel, somewhat, but that was the only way he knew to trouble her. She bit the inside of her cheek and played with her hands. If she lied, he would know, but what was the point of lying? It wasn't like there was a deep answer to it, other than getting it for her dead dad, who he had never liked in the first place. She remembered the fire in his eyes when Jacob Avery had shown up at the house unexpectedly. She remembered the way Michael almost broke every bone in his body, until Coraline finally asked him to leave. It was hard to believe that that happened five years ago. Michael looked like he aged a decade since then.

"I got it for my dad. He – uh – he died two years ago ... on my birthday," she frowned, brushing her thumb across the small tattoo. The ink had turned a dark grey since settling into her skin. "My mom became this, like, devoted Christian after he died. She always told me she hated him, but then he died and ... I don't know. I think it was her only way to cope." Coraline frowned, finally meeting Michael's eyes again. "She wanted us to get matching tattoos to honor him, or something like that."

Michael looked at the cross for a moment longer, knitting his brow together. With a sigh, he leaned back in his chair and closed the folder containing information on her that he already knew. It was odd, knowing so much about her without the help of a file. When his bright eyes fluttered back to her own, he noticed her cheeks had flushed red. A sheen of sweat appeared on her forehead.

Dragging his tongue across his bottom lip, he asked, "Has my recent arrival at the Outpost made you nervous?"

Coraline swallowed hard. He was trying to intimidate her. She assumed the same posture as him, placing her freckled cheek in her hand, and curling her lips into a sly grin. "Does my presence make  _you_ nervous?"

Michael's brow shot up at her response, but he hid the reaction instantly. He smiled coldly and stood from his chair. Coraline kept her gaze ahead, trying to remain unaware of how close he was as he sat down on the desk in front of her. He looked down at Coraline with an enigmatic stare, slowly inching himself closer to her chair. His thigh brushed her own, and he took notice of the way she was crossing her legs so tightly that she was shaking. He huffed in an annoyed tone.

"Have you ..." Michael paused to wrinkle his nose. "Have you ever done anything you regret?"

Coraline slowly turned to look at him. He got her  _exactly_ where he wanted her. Anger blazed in her grey eyes, making her face blush to a darker red. Her brow knitted together and she gripped the chair's arms intensely. She was almost tempted to reply that meeting him was one of her biggest regrets, but if she were being really honest with herself, that would've been a lie. Coraline wouldn't forget her gruesome past with Michael Langdon, but she didn't regret a second of it. Maybe that was her biggest sin of all.

With a bashful smirk, Coraline tapped her chin. "Hmm, let's see. I guess I regret the guys I've slept with over the past couple of years. Life gets lonely sometimes." Her eyes slowly slid to his, and she noticed he sat up straighter. "Does that botheryou,  _sir_?"

Michael narrowed his eyes, watching her lips curl playfully. Except, he  _knew_ she wasn't trying to be playful. She was trying to toy with him. He was only  _slightly_ impressed.

"Are you intentionally trying to make me feel jealous?" He asked with one brow cocked upward. His long locks fell in front of his eyes, but he still caught her sneaking a glance his way.

Coraline shrugged. "Maybe."

She was lying. He  _knew_ she was lying. She hadn't been with a lot of men intimately. She wasn't like that, but he still felt the bitterness seep into his stomach. His grip on the desk got rougher. Coraline saw the action quickly when her eyes flicker to his hands. They reminded her of the hands in her dream, but she kept her mouth tight. She hugged her sweater close again.

Michael's jaw set, and it took every muscle in his body not to snap. " _Any_.  _Other_.  _Regrets_?" He spat out through gritted teeth.

Fury coaxed in her veins then. Coraline stood up, finally noticing how close he had really gotten to her. Their heights matched while he sat on the desk and she stood defiantly in front of him. The power dynamic shifted drastically. Their electric threads were almost connecting, but she moved her hand away to prevent an interaction.

Her face was a foot from his, but neither of them moved away. He smiled when he noticed the anger written all over her face, and the way he cheeks were redder than ever. The perfume of death wafted into her nostrils, circling in her brain. Coraline's whole body felt hot when she realized the proximity between them. The pit in her stomach grew bigger, spreading all the way down her legs.

"Are you ..." She shook her head, releasing a loud scoff. "Are you trying to make me  _admit_  to something?  _What_  – do you want me to say that I  _regret_  abandoning you all those years ago? Is that what you want, Michael?"

He tilted his head to the side, eyes flickering to her mouth for a brief moment.

Coraline's hands rolled into fists. Her heart rate increased dramatically as she was reminded of the Winter Ball, where everything ended in disaster.

"Fine, you want a confession? I'll give you a confession." She leaned in slightly, not enough to make her cringe away, but enough to startle him. Crossing her arms over her chest, she continued, "Maybe I do regret leaving you at that dance. Maybe I've regretted it for the past five years, but there's  _nothing_ you can do about it. It happened. It's  _done_."

He was completely silent. His intense stare made the inside of her legs get warm, but she didn't dare move an inch. After a long moment, Michael turned his head away and smirked. "That's quite a confession," he replied. "It's  _exactly_ what I wanted."

Coraline's face twisted as he stood from the desk, sauntering across the room. She spun around and watched his careful stride move towards the large double doors at the end of the suite. Raising her hands, Coraline asked, "So ... did I pass, or are you going to try to go through with whatever Satanist plan you and Miriam had in mind years ago?"

He opened the doors suddenly, revealing the elaborate bedroom he was gifted by Ms. Venable. Michael turned to face her, watching her eyes grow wide, yet she didn't walk forward. He cocked his head to the side, confusion crossing his features.

"I ..." She chewed on her bottom lip. "After a while, I began to assume that after you killed everyone in that school, you were going to slice me up and eat me for breakfast."

Michael chuckled then, a low and dark laugh that shook the floorboards. "Eat you?" He shook his head. "Oh,  _not yet_ , Coraline Rose."

Coraline's head snapped back at his response.

"We'll continue this in part two of the interview. Maybe you'll find out my decision early if you have one of those ..." He waved his hand around. "What did your mother call them? Ah, yes –  _episodes_."

He shut the double doors with a loud slam. Coraline's mouth dropped. " _PART TWO_?!" She shrieked, completely disregarding the fact that others were sleeping. Coraline ran forward and pounded her fists against the doors, rage wracking through her small form. "You  _cannot_ just do this to me,  _Michael Langdon_. I'm not coming back for a fucking  _second interview_  –"

The doors slid open again, revealing an amused Michael behind them. Coraline almost stepped back when she realized how close he had leaned into her space. She exhaled heavily through her nose and tugged down at her shirt.

"Go to  _sleep_ , Coraline," he replied calmly, before allowing his mouth to twist. "Unless you'd rather come in here?"

Coraline's face flushed again, and it definitely  _wasn't_ from anger this time. Her mouth was drier than a desert as she contemplated a response. Coraline almost wanted to smack herself, but her hands were already forming into fists. She shouldn't be contemplating  _anything_. Why would she – even for a second – get in that room with Michael  _fucking_ Langdon?

With a loud huff, she replied, "No thanks."

Coraline turned on her heel, walking straight for the exit of his suite. She fought against the urge to look at him over her shoulder, already feeling his stare burning holes into her back. Secretly, she wondered if she would've accepted his offer had she looked back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PHEW WE LOVE A COUPLE OF DOMS


	24. A SPECIAL CONNECTION

#### ACT II: STRANGERS

##### CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

#####  **__________________________**

**IT**  seemed that Michael was taking more than a few days to conduct his interviews. In fact, after a week, he hadn't even questioned half of the survivors. Most of the time, he was holed up in his suite, doing God knows what.

Coraline realized soon enough that his quarters were right across from hers. Sometimes, they would arrive at their suites at the same time and simply look at each other. Other times, she would exit her quarters when he would, and they would meet at the top of the stairs. Michael would gesture for her to walk forward, and she would oblige. Neither had said a word to each other since the interview. She questioned if he was just itching to call her, "Coraline Rose," again, because he seemed so fond of it. Coraline couldn't deny that the name caused a tickle to crawl down her spine, but maybe it was simply his voice that did that.

She wondered when he would call on her again. Despite not wanting to have another awkward interview with him, Coraline knew it was nonnegotiable. At this point, she really didn't care about getting into some Sanctuary, especially if it meant spending time with him again. For all she knew, this could be  _yet another_  elaborate plan to blow up some place and officially end mankind as they know it. He didn't hesitate years ago, so why shouldn't she assume otherwise?

The waiting was beginning to make her feel anxious. Coraline found her dreams consisting of long, blonde hair and big hands gripping her hips, but she  _refused_ to acknowledge the face they belonged to. The similarities to Michael were apparent, yet she had never actually  _seen_ the person's face in her dreams. However, she was thankful that she wasn't dreaming of the white-faced demon with black eyes anymore, or seeing it anywhere in her path.

Coraline speculated if Michael somehow knew about her dreams. Sometimes, if they saw each other in the mornings, he would give her this  _look_ , like he knew exactly what was going on in her quarters late at night. At least he didn't know that she sometimes masturbated while thinking about the anonymous person in her dreams – which  _wasn't_ Michael.  _Totally not him_ , she told herself.  _Definitely, not_.

The anxiety from waiting soon started to make her leg shake at the most uncomfortable of times. Gallant began to notice it at dinner time, since she sat beside him, and he would constantly feel her leg vibrating against the floorboards. "Are you okay?" He finally asked one day, as everyone gathered around the table for their evening meal. "You've been worried lately – more than usual."

Coraline had looked around, realizing that it was only her, Gallant, and Coco currently sitting themselves at the table. The others seemed to be taking their time as the Greys began to dish out the gelatin servings for the day. Not even Venable or Ms. Mead were in sight, which made admitting to her anxiety so much easier, yet she didn't  _want_ to. If she told Gallant she was anxious about a second interview with the head of the Cooperative, he might question why she was even getting a second interview in the first place. She wondered if anyone else had gotten multiple interviews so far, judging from the long process Michael was taking.

Eventually, Coraline smiled and shook her head. "I'm fine," she replied quickly. "Just dandy."

"Well, can you  _please_ stop your leg from fucking shaking?" Gallant's brow rose, and he slapped his hand on Coraline's leg to stop the vibrations. " _What_  – are you nervous about Langdon's decision process? It is taking a  _really_ long time –"

"I told you I'm  _not_ nervous –"

"Yeah, and I totally  _don't_ like dick in my mouth," he rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed. Gallant's voice lowered to a whisper. "Did you even have your interview yet?"

Coraline was already slicing into her cube before the rest arrived at the table. "Well ... I –"

"You guys know I can hear you,  _right_?" Coco fumed, playing with a stray curl getting in her face. "You don't  _have_ to whisper. Are we talking about Langdon? I'm  _interested_."

Gallant and Coraline shared a look before turning back to Coco. Coraline's leg was shaking again, making Gallant scoot his chair away. As the brunette woman opened her mouth, she was suddenly interrupted by Coco for the tenth time that week.

"Coraline, can I ask you a question?" Coco laced her fingers together as Timothy and Emily finally took their seats at the table. "What even is your  _deal_  with Langdon? Let's talk about that."

Timothy and Emily cast Coraline a narrow-eyed glance before turning back to their meals. Coraline's mouth ran dry as she opened it again, wondering how she could word her response. "I ..." She frowned. "I really  _don't_  understand why you're asking me that, Coco."

Coco raised a brow. "I just noticed him staring at you sometimes when we leave dinner. It's  _weird_ ," she scoffed, "and I just wanted to make sure you didn't have an edge in this Sanctuary questioning. I know he's not going to pick  _you_ , but ... I don't know. I was just  _wondering_ because it's something I noticed."

_Jeez_ , Coraline thought,  _does she ever stop talking?_

The room was silent for a moment as the other survivors finally took their seats for dinner. Everyone  _except_ Evie, for some unknown reason, but Gallant somehow didn't question it. The cracking of the fireplace was the only thing that could be heard, until Coco opened her big, fat mouth again.

"So, you don't know him at all?"

" _Jesus_!" Coraline smashed a fist against the table, causing Dinah to jump. "Can you stop with the grill, Coco? I don't have an edge or deal with Langdon. Maybe you should be more worried about  _your_  interview with him than my life."

Gallant chuckled then, interrupting Coraline's rant and making everyone turn to him. "Coraline  _doesn't_  have an edge with Langdon." He smirked proudly towards every survivor in the room. " _I do_."

Coco had been staring at her reflection in a fork, but finally slid her eyes to Gallant upon hearing his statement. She set down the utensil irritably, cocking a brow upward. "What do you  _mean_?"

"Langdon and I ..." Gallant huffed dramatically, trying to play up his recent interaction with the superior. "We have a  _special connection_. I feel like I've always known him in my soul."

Coraline slowly turned to face the man on her right. Tilting her head to the side, she asked, "Are you telling us that you and Langdon  _actually_  had sex?"

The whole room was weirdly silent. Everyone was looking at Gallant again, and he was eating it all up with a spoon. This was even more desirable than their one meal a day. "I shouldn't say anything," Gallant grinned big, "but if the shoe fits ...  _wear it, baby_."

The table was silent, but then Coraline cracked a snort. Gallant's eyes slid to her, as well as everyone else's. Before he could question her, she waved a hand around. "It's nothing,  _I swear_ ," Coraline said. She wondered if it really was nothing to her, because the sudden intensity of her blood pressure begged to differ.

Andre hissed a laugh, which lifted the tension from the room. "You're lucky your grandma isn't around right now," he added, causing Gallant to chuckle. "Or she'd drop dead."

"Actually," Coco said, pointing her fork in Gallant's direction, "maybe she  _should_  hear this."

Coraline raised a brow in the blonde's direction. In fact, the whole table couldn't believe what Coco had suggested. Coraline was sure these people were scheming behind each other's backs to get into the Sanctuary, but none of them said it outright.

Coco didn't seem phased by it. " _What_?" She asked, popping a piece of gelatin into her painted lips. "Whatever eliminates the competition,  _right_?"

#####  **__________________________**

The more Coraline thought about it – and she ended up thinking about it  _a lot_ – the more she convinced herself that maybe Gallant had lied. The Michael she used to know would never command a room like he did now, but things changed. He grew up. She wouldn't put it past him to act provocatively around Gallant to get answers out of him for his questioning. He even tried to bewitch Coraline during her interview, but she just didn't take the bait.

At least ... she  _thought_  she didn't. Just because she might be dreaming about a person who slightly looked like him  _did not_  mean that she took any bait.

Nevertheless, Coraline knew Gallant well. If Michael hadn't been the one to make advances into Gallant's bedroom – like the hairdresser  _implied_ – she also believed that Gallant would do something reckless to get into this dumb Sanctuary bullshit. Something like fucking the head honcho in charge.

She decided to sit back and keep her opinions to herself. Another day had gone by without Michael asking for her again. She was beginning to think he forgot, which wasn't  _that_ bad of an outcome. He hadn't been outside his room at all yesterday, and his absence was just another reason why Coraline had a hard time believing Gallant's story. But – she had to stop thinking about the rumor. It was driving her insane, and she definitely didn't need Crazy Coraline coming back from the dead.

Once evening rolled in, she had her feet propped on the glass table in the library. Coraline picked the first book she saw in the stacks upon stacks around her, and it happened to be Plato's  _Republic_. She passed Philosophy in college with a C, so she rationalized that maybe this would get her educational juices following again. God knows that they had nothing else to do after the Apocalypse.

As she cracked open the broken spine, Coraline expected a peaceful night in with no one around. But then loud voices flooded the room, and she shut the book, having to endure the presence of these arrogant survivors  _yet again_. "Time in a Bottle" by Jim Croce played softly through the old speaker, causing Coraline to slap her book in her lap when she finally recognized the tune. Her mauve dress ruffled at the impact.

"I remember when this song was used on a very special Hardy Boys episode," Dinah sighed, taking a seat beside Evie on the couch. "I had the  _biggest crush_ on Shaun Cassidy."

Coco perched herself on the same couch as Coraline, making the brunette roll her eyes and scoot over more. "Hey, guys," she said, pointing a finger up, "I kinda wanted a little alone time, so if this conversation isn't  _that_ important –"

"This is important," Dinah interrupted. "We're reminiscing on ... innocent times. I'm sure you have some of your own, Coraline."

Before the brunette could reply, Coco was already fuming, " _Boring_ times, if you ask me."

" _The Hardy Boys_  was a very popular program."

Coraline fought the urge to roll her eyes again, and instead crossed her legs on the coffee table.

"Yeah, of course, it was," Coco ridiculed. "You only had  _three networks_. This is exactly why this is so much harder on us youth than it is for you geriatrics. You're used to having only two or three lame things in your life, like TV networks, ways to drink coffee, sexual orientations." The blonde then turned to the woman beside her. "Back me up, Coraline."

Coraline raised a brow as Mallory entered the room, setting a pitcher of mineral water and glasses on the table. "I'm not backing you up on  _anything_ ," the brunette refused with a shake of her head.

Coco looked to her Grey assistant. "Mallory? Help?"

"Dog breeds ..." Mallory began, taking a seat in between Coco and Coraline. The brunette woman moved over even  _more_  and sighed dramatically. (So much for a peaceful night alone.) "We have so many options for everything. Dental floss, air fresheners. We didn't just order a burger. We needed to know if we wanted turkey or veggie –"

"I think they get it –" Coraline added.

Mallory continued with a grin, "We have at least four Chris-es that could star in a movie. How many do  _you_ have?"

Evie was waving a fan in front of her face when she began to retort, but her response was interrupted by a pair of loud footsteps entering the room. Everyone turned their heads to see Gallant walking slowly towards his grandmother. His whole body was shaking. Coraline sat up, instantly noticing the fury engulfing his entire face.

Gallant picked up the pitcher and poured himself a glass of water. He usually looked so put-together, but now, his collar wasn't buttoned and his jacket had several wrinkles in it. He pursed his lips and glared at Evie. "Surprised to see me breathing, Nana?"

Evie didn't look like she had a hint of regret. For the first time, both Coco and Coraline shared a confused look.

"They usually shoot people for fucking, or ..." He sent her a dramatic grin. "Did you not remember that when you turned me in?"

Coraline's brow furrowed. Evie hadn't been at the dinner when Gallant confessed to sleeping with –  _whoever it was_. (Coraline wasn't going to debate it internally anymore.) The only way she could've found out was if she ... Coraline's face twisted into a disgusted expression.

"No hard feelings, darling," Evie smiled. "I want to live, and the only way to achieve that is to get rid of these ... ten little idiots who stand between me –" She slapped the fan against her chest. "– And that golden ticket out of here."

"Um ..." Coco wrinkled her nose. "We're sitting  _right here_  –"

Coraline's lips curled into a frown as she dared to ask the most desired question in the room. "So, did you like ...  _watch_ –?"

"It's not my fault that you can't control your carnal urges!" Evie continued.

"Yep," Coraline nodded, tapping her hands on the book in her lap, "she  _did_ watch."

Gallant raised his hand, almost tempted to slap his grandma, but he did no such thing. Instead, he bared his teeth and screamed, " _YOU HAVE LIVED_! I haven't!"

"Oh,  _yes_ , you have!" Evie argued, standing up to meet her grandson's eyes. She stood under him by a foot, but it still seemed like she had the upper hand. "You have crammed  _ten lifetimes_ of failures and screw-ups in your thirty years!"

The blonde male's hands went in the air, and he turned to look at each of their conflicted stares. "Am I the  _only one_  who makes mistakes? Hmm?" He took a long sip from the mineral water in his hand.

Evie chuckled darkly. "No! But  _I_ am always the one that has to clean up after you. Let me see ... three stints in rehab on  _my dime_  ... Fancy lawyers to keep you out of prison ... When your grandfather rejected you because of your perverted lifestyle,  _I_ took you in! And  _what_ did I get back?"

Silence. Gallant's fist was flexing in and out. Coraline felt like she had to do something, but  _what_?

"Yes," Evie sighed, "you went and you bankrupted two salons, and then you  _snorted_ the third one up your nose!" She turned to the other survivors in the room, as if trying to appeal to them after she had insulted each of them. "I  _deserve_ to live. I'm the bridge between past and future."

Only  _then_ did Coraline want to laugh. The fact that this elderly woman acted like she had more power than Coraline's dainty visions was maddening. Coraline wasn't invincible or even  _that_  powerful to begin with, but her visions surely meant more than Evie's knowledge of culture and music.

Evie finally spun back to her grandson, waving her fan again in her face. "One lifetime of me is worth  _fifty_ of yours. Humanity may be in a sorry state, but it deserves better than you."

Gallant smacked the glass of water on the coffee table, and surprisingly, it didn't smash into pieces. "The only thing I ever wanted from you was for you to love me and accept me," he replied through gritted teeth. " _Why_ couldn't you just give me that?"

"Sorry, darling," she smirked, "it's just not in my nature."

With a soft and careful hand, Evie tapped her grandson's cheek before she left. Gallant's body still shook with rage, but he had to keep it in. His brow furrowed. His eyes screamed,  _murder_. It almost made Coraline ... afraid of him. That took a lot of effort to do, after everything she had seen over the years.

Later that night, Coraline had a vision of Evie Gallant dying, and it was a gory sight that she hoped would never come true. But that was like wishing for a miracle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We stretchin' out the canon timeline again, lads!!!! I know it's kinda annoying, but it helps a lot plot-wise! Michael was only supposed to be at the Outpost for a few days/a week at most, but I'm making it a lot longer to not rush the plot, and also keeps the Outpost members waiting in agony to find out who is going to the Sanctuary, which I totally believe Michael would love doing ahahaha


	25. THE UNHOLY TRINITY

#### ACT II: STRANGERS

##### CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

#####  **__________________________**

**THE**  image of Evie Gallant's bloodied body haunted Coraline all night. She hardly had a good night's rest since Michael's arrival, but last night had been the worst above all. Every dream she had featured the older woman lying in her bed, bleeding out from multiple stab wounds. What Coraline would give to just  _forget_.

Like usual, Coraline pushed the vision to the back of her mind. She tended to do this a lot during stressful situations, and began to focus on other less important things. Currently, she was obsessed with her breasts appearing even in the dress she wanted to wear for dinner that night. The corset certainly wasn't helping with the overall look, nor did it make her feel comfortable whatsoever.

Coraline pulled up the bejeweled collar of her violet dress, shoving one of her breasts up to make it even with the other, while also trying not to push it all the way out. She didn't even want to  _imagine_ that happening at dinner. Clothing at the Outpost didn't have to be so complicated, but it was one of Venable's many rules. She wondered who even picked out the dresses in her closet, seeing as they were all so casually revealing. Probably some horn-dog male from the Cooperative.

Pulling half of her hair up, Coraline shook out the remaining strands of her bob and turned in the mirror. Sure, the outfits were unnecessary, but she  _did_ grow to like these dresses. She'd like them even better if she didn't have to wear such an uncomfortable corset.

Slipping on a pair of comfy flats, she made her way to the exit for dinner. Coraline was especially starving today. Somehow, the sight of a murdered Evie didn't do so well for her appetite until the last remaining minute. Yanking the door handle open, Coraline began to walk out of her suite, until her chest clashed with something hard. Her eyes adjusted to the tall figure in front of her, causing her to step back instantly.

"Good evening, Coraline," Michael greeted with a sickly sweet smile.

Coraline cocked a brow upward. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough," he replied quickly, eyes sliding down to admire her gown. "Lovely dress."

"Look," she sighed, slapping a hand against the doorframe, "as much as this conversation is  _thoroughly engrossing_ , I have to attend dinner."

As Coraline started to push him aside, Michael placed his hand on top of her own, blocking her way. Coraline looked up and noticed he was wearing red leather gloves. Their connection pulsated through the fabric, the threads already tying their skin together, but it was faint. Coraline hardly felt it, yet it still made her heart beat quicken.

"I've excused you from dinner this evening," he continued.

Coraline quickly slipped her hand from underneath his glove. "And why is that?" She smirked wickedly. "Do you plan on slicing me up finally? You did imply last week that it could be imminent. My only request is that my death is quick."

Michael grinned, but it wasn't in a joking matter. In fact, every curl of his lips had her blood running cold and made her legs shake. "It's time for the second part of your questioning," he explained, turning on his heel. "Follow me."

She shut her eyes for a moment. With a shake of her head, Coraline wondered just  _when_ she'd be able to escape this hell. At first, she thought surviving the Apocalypse meant she may be in God's good graces – if her mother had been correct about His existence – but this place was  _clearly_ her own personal hell.

Coraline hesitantly followed Michael, remaining just a foot away. He turned the knob to his suit and held it open for her. Coraline's eyes lingered on his gloves as she walked past. Red surrounded her entire vision, and all Coraline wanted was to feel the heat of that leather again. She pulled her bottom lip in between her teeth and immediately sat down before his desk, without being told to do so. When she turned to look at Michael entering the suite, she wondered if he could read her enticing thoughts, judging from the smirk on his lips. She hoped not.

With a loud huff, Michael sat on the edge of his desk. Coraline was abruptly reminded of him saying professionalism wasn't his forte.  _He really wasn't kidding_ , she thought, gaze sliding up to his own as he inched closer to her, yet far away enough to not let his leg touch her dress. As he looked down at her, Coraline was suddenly aware of how her chest was literally  _spilling_ out of her dress. Maybe it wasn't the night to wear this particular gown, or maybe it could work in her favor.

"This won't take long," Michael assured her. "I only have a few questions."

Coraline chuckled sarcastically. "That's almost the same thing you said about your interviews, and it's been two weeks since you got here."

" _Furthermore_ ," he continued, acid spewing from his tone, "these questions required another interview because they call for detailed answers."

Coraline leaned back in the leather chair, feeling the warmth of the fire radiating from the hearth. She twisted a short strand of brown hair in her finger. Michael's eyes raked down her figure in the most unsettling way possible, making her want to immediately leave the room. However, another side of her simply wanted him to keep staring.  _Admiration_ , she thought. Coraline always loved to be admired. It was a flaw, but she also found the act of worshipping  _weirdly_  attractive.

She didn't find him all  _that_ attractive, though.  _No_ , definitely  _not_. Maybe she did at one point, when they were younger. She might've even been in love with him, but things had changed. They had  _grown up_. Wasn't it morally unethical to want to sleep with your superior anyways? Out of all things, Coraline Avery was  _not_ unethical.

Michael licked his lips and finally glanced back to her eyes. "Tell me," he muttered, raising his chin, "what do you desire most?"

She looked away, realizing that she had been staring at his mouth for far too long. The perfume of death was clogging her senses. Swallowing hard, Coraline tried to regain her calm composure and shrugged. "I ... I don't know."

"There must be  _something_ ," Michael dismissed, tilting his head to the side. "Why don't you know?"

Coraline wrinkled her nose and stared ahead. The perfume was fucking  _everywhere_. She wanted to leave the room just so she wouldn't have to smell the beautiful rose scent anymore, but the threads were tying her to him.

"I guess ..." She sighed, lacing her fingers together. "I want a lot of things. It's kind of hard to pinpoint one after the End." Slowly, she turned to face him again. His stare alone could burn holes into her skin, and attack her mind like a curse. "Which ... I'm assuming  _you_ caused."

Michael lifted a brow, an amused expression lighting up on his face. "And how would you know  _that_?"

Coraline bit her bottom lip so hard that she thought she drew blood. The memories were coming back. All the decoding she did after he left, all the titles she researched – they were crawling out from the depths of her subconscious. She had to acknowledge his true title.

"You can go around explaining to everyone how you're part of this  _Cooperative_ , but I know the truth." She settled more into her seat, trying to remain as casual as possible, as if the truth spilling from her mouth wasn't shaking her insides. "I remember what Miriam used to call you," she continued, voice lowering to a whisper. " _The Chosen One_. I did some digging after you left."

Michael was leaning in now, invading her space, and surprised when she didn't push him back. He watched her inhale his scent like an addict. "What did that  _digging_  tell you?"

Coraline clenched her teeth for a moment. "The Chosen One in the Satanic religion ..." She swallowed down the lump forming in her throat, quickly averting her grey eyes from his baby blues. "Also known as the Antichrist — will bring the End of Days."

"Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?" He asked, a corner of his mouth turning up.

Coraline's stare narrowed. "I also remember you saying at the dance that you wanted to, and I quote –" She used her fingers to resemble quotation marks. "–'Take down every bad person by ending the world.' Words like that can engrave themselves in someone's memory, Michael. That doesn't really keep your title a secret."

"I wasn't trying to keep it a secret from you."

She paused and wondered if the rose perfume was making her delusional. At that moment, she could've sworn his face had softened.

The silence seemed to last for minutes, but Coraline couldn't stop  _staring_ at him, and debating if the boy she knew was still in this man's body. Finally, she whispered, "Why ... Why didn't you come after me? After the ball?"

Michael froze, as if she struck a nerve. "This is your interview and not mine, Coraline." He realized after a long moment that she wasn't giving up, causing him to sigh loudly. "It wasn't on my to-do list."

_That_  got her blood pumping.

"IT WASN'T ON YOUR  _TO-DO_ LIST?!" She shrieked, leaning forward in her chair to seethe violently at him. She hoped her spit hit his face, even though Michael truly never minded things like that. In fact, he thought of it as her marking her territory, and he likedit.

Their faces were a foot from each other. Despite her fierce demeanor and vicious tone, Michael wasn't phased by it one bit. His brow shot up as she huffed and puffed at him, waiting desperately for a sadistic response back.

Instead, Michael replied, "Are you done with your tantrum?"

With a furious glare, Coraline slammed her back against the chair again, refusing to answer. Michael smiled and straightened his posture. "I do believe you haven't answered the question yet, Coraline Rose," he continued. "What do you desire  _most_?"

The nickname sent a shiver down her spine. Coraline's jaw shifted as she looked to her hands. In a low voice, she said, "I want to see my mom."

"Oh,  _Francesca_ ," Michael snapped his fingers at the familiar name. "How is she?"

Coraline knitted her brow together. "She was killed in the explosions."

Michael's lips parted, as if he wanted to say something, but he knew nothing could make up for that part of his plan. He ended up standing from his desk, smoothing out his black dress shirt, and circled around Coraline's chair. She continued to stare ahead, even when his gloved hand hovered across her shoulders.

"Well, I'm going to let you know  _my_ greatest desire, Coraline." He stopped right behind her, gripping the back of her chair tightly. Her skin burned hot as she fought to urge to take his hands and –

_God_ , she thought,  _get your head out of the gutter!_

Michael smirked, completely aware of her raw thoughts. "My desire is to  _rebuild_ ," he replied eloquently. "After the End, someone needs to rebuild. Someone needs to create life again. Someone needs to create a new national order.  _I_  want to rebuild the  _world_." His gloved fingers lingered near her bare shoulders, causing her armpits to sweat. "In order to do this, a bond must be created through an important ceremony. Specifically, this is the bond of the Unholy Trinity."

Coraline swallowed down the bile rising in her jugular, and before she could breathe, Michael was spinning her chair around to face him. She froze in her seat, wondering if the movement gave her whiplash. Michael stood tall and proud before her, and she simply sank down in the chair.

"Do you know what that is?" He asked softly. Coraline's body went numb, and all she could do was shake her head. "The Unholy Trinity is the definition of chaos and deception. It consists of my Father, the Antichrist, and the False Prophet." He was looking at her mouth again, and she felt the need to shift her stare immediately, but she couldn't. "The False Prophet predicts the source of Armageddon, then the Antichrist and his Father carry it out. They will usher in the End Times, yet they will only be able to rebuild through the bonding ceremony."

" _The bonding ceremony_?" She repeated, quirking a brow upward.

Michael slowly knelt down to her level and slipped off one of his red gloves. Coraline watched every move he made with a keen interest. After a moment of hesitation, his fingers inched up her thigh – making her legs squeeze themselves shut – before finally grabbing her hand. Her lap was trembling from his hand just being  _so close_ , but then she noticed the energetic threads wrapping themselves around their hands again, and it felt so  _familiar_. They were electric and beautiful. They encompassed the touch she wanted to feel from him since he arrived, but also the touch she tried to ignore. The coolness of his rings against his warm skin made her shudder.

"You see," he whispered, glancing down to their combined hands. "There has been a connection since we first met. Miriam knew what you were from the start. You were never just a  _prophet_. You are  _the False Prophet_."

She rubbed at her eye with the back of one of her palms, trying to gain a sense of normality in the words he was saying. "You ..." She shook her head. "You think I'm some —"

" _Yes_ ," he replied, urgent. His hot breath fanned her cheeks and caused them to flush. "The ceremony will connect our lifelines together and help to rebuild."

Coraline's lips could barely move. Her mouth was dry as his thumb continued to caress her skin. Just his touch made her insides melt all over again, and she tried to frantically keep up her hard exterior.

"And how would we do that?" She murmured, meeting his gaze. "How is the bond created?"

Michael face was serious as he replied, "The bond is made from intimate relations."

The melting was over then. The dreamy atmosphere was done. Coraline's face twisted as she slipped her hand from his large fingers. "Are you  _serious_?" She scoffed. "You're asking me to  _fuck you_  so you can rebuild the world?"

He bared his teeth into a grin, "That's another way to put it."

"Venable would slit  _both_  of our throats," Coraline barked back. "She has a strict 'no unauthorized copulation' rule."

Michael chuckled darkly and stood up again. "No need for rules anymore, Coraline. Chaos has won." Blue burned into grey as he stared at her intensely, sliding that one red glove back on his hand. Coraline watched his fingers flex with parted lips. "Don't worry about Ms. Venable either. I am her superior."

Coraline hesitated for a long moment, and finally met his eyes again. The suggestive side of her brain wondered if his red gloves would be involved in the ceremony, while the other side knew that somehow this would blow up in her face. With a frown, she asked, "What do  _I_ get out of it?"

"I'll make you a deal then," he said, mouth quirking up into a sneer. "You go through with the bonding ceremony and I'll grant you immediate access to the Sanctuary."

"That's not what I want."

The reply came out so fast that it surprised her. Michael's brow furrowed and he leaned his head back.

"Do you ..." She paused, chewing on the inside of her cheek. "Do you have the power to contact spirits? Even if they're in Heaven?"

Michael's eyes narrowed, uncertainty glistening within them. "I think I can manage that. Why?"

Coraline stood then, walking forward so that she was just inches from him. Their chests were almost touching as she tilted her head to the side. The scent of roses surged through her nostrils as their electric threads tugged her closer to him. Coraline was very much aware of his stare roaming from her eyes all the way down to the collar on her dress, but she didn't question it or cower away.

"I want you to allow me to talk with my mother's spirit," she licked her bottom lip, "in  _any way possible_. I don't care how you do it. But I'll only agree to this ... bonding ceremony bullshit after you do."

Michael laughed devilishly, "You act as if it's that hard."

Coraline's expression muddled as he took a step backward. With a heavy exhale, Michael closed his eyes for a short moment. Coraline furrowed her brow, wanting to ask what he was doing, but his name fell dead on her pink lips. Finally, Michael opened his eyes again. For a split second, Coraline thought they flashed to a black color, and it didn't scare her one bit.

"You have three minutes." Michael snapped his fingers then, and with a slight smirk, he walked out of the room. Coraline watched his cat-like stride with curiosity, turning to notice him wink at her before locking the door. She looked to her hands and wondered why he left here in there, all alone.

It was suddenly so cold. She didn't have a human furnace near her anymore. Coraline felt the heat of the fireplace on her back, but she missed just his ...  _presence_ , as much as she liked to deny it. Once he came back, she felt  _things_  resurface.  _Things_  she wanted to push deeper into the back of her mind.

Or maybe the red gloves were just getting to her.

Coraline felt a hard gust of wind hit her back. She looked up, but dared not to turn around, until she heard a voice rise from the darkness.

"Coraline?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back to the religion stuff!!! This is what the fic has been leading to all along: Michael being the Antichrist and Coraline as the False Prophet. Along with Satan being his daddio, that makes the three the Unholy Trinity. Weirdly enough, when I was first creating the plot to this story, I hadn't even considered this concept??? That was until I started looking into the Antichrist (lmao research purposes) and found out the Unholy Trinity, and from there I discovered who the False Prophet was. I was like, WHOMST IS THIS???? DID I CREATE CORALINE UNINTENTIONALLY TO BE THIS LOL


	26. SURVIVOR'S GUILT

#### ACT II: STRANGERS

##### CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

#####  **__________________________**

**CORALINE**  never thought she'd see her mother's smiling expression again, but here she was – right in front of her – grinning from ear to ear. She ran forward, engulfing Francesca Avery in her arms. Her grip was tight and unmoving. She felt her mother's hands run through her short hair, and it reminded Coraline of when she was little, when Francesca would brush her hair.

Everything felt so  _real_. Even when Michael had agreed to her deal, there was always Coraline's pessimistic side telling her that it wasn't possible. As someone who could see visions of the future, you'd think she'd be a little more open-minded. However, it was rational to think that way. Things like magic and contacting the dead were topics you explored through Reddit and old Blogspot profiles. But here was her dead mother standing before her –  _hugging her_  – as if she were really there.

Coraline was surprised that she could feel her mother's grip. She felt her flowing white top against her cheek, and allowed her tears to stain it. She felt her own hands lock around her mother's skinny waist. She felt her chestnut hair tickle her fingers. She felt her long nose nuzzled against her hair. But when Coraline leaned away, she realized how ghostly her mother's complexion was. It was strangely white, almost sheer, like the linen shirt she was wearing. Her mother's skin used to be glowing and beautiful, but now it just looked ...  _dead_.

"I'm ..." Coraline shook her head, taking in her mother's dark eyes and eerie features. "Mom, I'm  _so sorry_. I should've saved you. I should've been there with you when –"

Francesca pressed a finger to her daughter's lips. "There isn't anything you could've done," she whispered, cupping Coraline's cheeks. "God would be so proud of you. I know he would. Heaven has assured me of this." Her delicate fingers rubbed away her daughter's tears. Coraline couldn't even roll her eyes at Francesca's religious talk, because she simply wanted her  _there_.

"No, no, I – I  _could've_ stopped it," Coraline replied, voice cracking. "I could've, mom. I saw it happen. Six months before the bombs dropped, I had a vision. I should've  _done_ something. I should've  _told_   _you_."

"Stop that," Francesca reprimanded, her tone darkening for a quick moment. Coraline hadn't heard her use that voice in a very long time, not since dad died. Her mother's mood softened again as she admired her daughter's rosy face. "You're so beautiful. A beautiful girl with a heart of gold. You were made to outlast us all, Coraline. You always were, because  _God_ gave you that gift."

Coraline had to hold herself back from arguing. She sucked in a sob, wondering if her mother knew that she dabbling with Satan right now just to speak with her. Coraline  _couldn't_  be a gift from God. Not after all the bad shit she caused. She was a human body filled with to the brink sin and living with her own survivor's guilt. Why else would the Devil grant her the only thing she wished for? It hit her then: had Coraline Avery sold her soul?

"Mom," she whined, almost like an innocent child, "what am I supposed to  _do_? It's only a matter of time before I'm a pile of ash like the rest of the planet. The nuclear winter will surely kill us all soon. Michael says he wants to rebuild the world –"

" _Ah_ , Michael," Francesca looked away for a moment. "Another one that would outlast us, but not for the good reasons. I always knew there was something  _wrong_ with that boy, especially after that –"

Coraline's mouth wobbled as she said, "He brought you here, mom."

"I know," she sighed. "I was summoned by his gift. Doesn't mean I don't like him any less." Francesca wiped away more tears, allowing a few of her own to shed. "We don't have much time left, Cora."

" _No_ ," Coraline seethed and yanked on her mother's sleeve. "You  _can't_  leave yet. You haven't told me what I should do. I'm so lost –"

Francesca licked her lips, thinking over a reply. "I never thought I'd ever say this," she said aloud to herself before glancing back to her daughter, "but I want you to stay close to Michael. I  _know_  there has always been a darkness inside of him, but ..." She closed her eyes for a moment and shook her head. "He is the only way you will survive all of this, Coraline. If you stay by his side, you will see the new world."

Coraline's breath hitched in her throat when she noticed her mother's face growing more translucent under her fingertips. She could hardly feel her grasp anymore. Francesca's lips pulled into a sweet smile as she said, "I know I used to call your visions crazy. I know I wasn't the best mom. But I believe in you. You can't let your visions die in the fallout. It isn't your time yet."

Coraline's eyes became glassy as she cried, "Mom, please don't go. I ..." She bit her bottom lip. "I miss you. I'm sorry I never told you that a lot."

"Oh, honey," Francesca soothed, as sheer as silk now, "I miss you too."

And then, she was nothing. Coraline's arms were out, holding the air before her. Tears welled up in her grey eyes, and her nose ran with mucus. She wiped at the bottom of her nostril with the back of her hand, but nothing could stop it. Her mother wasn't there to hold her anymore. She wasn't there to make her stop crying. She was  _dead_.

The room was so quiet. All Coraline could hear was her own sobs. She hadn't heard the door open, or footsteps click behind her. She did, however, finally feel a presence near her back. Coraline sniffled, looking over her shoulder as Michael stood there. His expression was solemn. Not even a quirk of the lips on the Antichrist's handsome features. The conundrum made Coraline's body twist to face him fully, but she refused to say a word.

Michael eyed the water on her cheeks with a furrowed brow. With a careful hand, he reached out and wiped a tear as it escaped her eye. His finger dragged down her face, brushing against her lips for a mere moment. Coraline felt every hair on her neck stand up. She watched him with a narrowed stare. He looked to the tear perched on his finger for a long while, before finally rubbed it away in the palm of his other hand, as if to keep it within his skin.

Coraline's back straightened then. She rubbed away the wetness under her eyes and sucked in loudly, gathering her normal composer. Without a second thought, she hissed, "We have a deal, Michael."

Before he could respond, she was walking past him. Michael watched her skirt sway against the floorboards from over his shoulder. As she went to shut the door, she heard him call, "Coraline Avery?"

She lifted her chin, staring at him through the large crack in the door. He could only see half of her face, but he still smirked suggestively. One grey eye glared at him.

"I'll see you very soon," he purred.

Coraline slammed the door in his face.

#####  **__________________________**

Evie Gallant died in her sleep that night. She was found in a bloodied mess. Her chest spat out crimson. Several stab wounds were plunged into her ribcage, while a pair of scissors laid by the murder scene. Her mouth hung open and her eyes were wide with shock. Even on her deathbed, she wore an elegant dress. She would show her wealth in the afterlife too.

The Outpost was now severely lacking in the older woman's unique accent. But somehow, it did seem quieter. Coraline was actually grateful for that. She refused to say it out loud, but she had never been ...  _bothered_ by Evie's death. No one really had, besides Gallant, and even then he just seemed nervous. No one had mourned Evie Gallant.

Coco was ecstatic about it. She wouldn't stop repeating, "One less competition for me! She was never going to get into the Sanctuary anyways."

Venable told them that it was a Grey who murdered Evie. At first, Ms. Mead tried to pass it off as Evie dying in her sleep, but once Coraline and the other survivors got a glimpse at the crime scene, they  _knew_ the lies they had been fed. Venable had the "accused" Grey exterminated, but Coraline still wondered if that was a lie too.

Eventually, the truth always came out.

After dinner the next night, Gallant pulled Coraline into a long hallway near the staircase. She assumed he was going to complain about her shaky leg during dinner, since all she could think about was that she agreed to do some bonding ceremony with the confirmed Antichrist, who was also her ex-boyfriend from high school. He still hadn't requested her presence yet, hardly leaving his room, as always. It had been more than three weeks since his arrival. The survivors were growing restless to leave, but knew that patience would be their only way getting to the Sanctuary.

Gallant's hand gripped Coraline's elbow tightly as he ushered her into the dimly lit corridor, causing the brunette to yank her arm away. "Hey! Don't touch the goods," she exclaimed. "Why are you –?"

" _Shush_!" He pressed a finger to her lips, crushing them against each other. Coraline's brow furrowed. "I did a  _bad_ thing."

She wrinkled her nose. "What did you do? Sleep with Andre? That's totally a bad thing for you." She grinned for a short second. "Let me guess: he was muttering Stu's name during sex."

Gallant waved his hands around. "I  _did not_ fuck Andre! Why would I do that?"

"I was just guessing that you were lonely since ...  _you know_ , Evie –"

"That's  _it_ , Coraline," Gallant replied, voice lowering to a whisper. "It's about my nana."

Coraline frowned, "Just spit it out."

Gallant licked his bottom lip and turned to the lit end of the hallway, watching a Grey servant pass. Coraline followed his line of vision with a confused expression. As Gallant turned back to her, their stares met.

"I killed her."

Coraline's eyes went wide. "You  _what_?!"

"Keep your voice down!"

She shook her head. "How  _can_  I when you ...?" A hand went to her hair as she tried to process her friend's confession. "You  _looked_ like you wanted to kill her when you two had that argument. I  _knew_ it wasn't a Grey–"

"Please,  _please_ ," Gallant huffed, wagging a finger in her direction. Candles flickered in and out around them. "Let me explain. Yes, I was mad at my nana, but I would never  _intentionally_ kill her. I ..." He rubbed a hand into his eyes. "I don't know what happened. One minute I was ...  _God_ , I thought I was fucking Langdon.  _There_ , I said it."

Coraline felt a pit of bitterness develop in her chest, but she swept it away and tried to focus on the subject before her. "You  _thought_ you were?"

"It was some guy in a full-body suit. I don't know. I assumed it was Langdon!" He chewed on his lip. "It was probably a Grey. I don't know. I'm not focusing on that right now. Anyways, one minute I was hooking up with this guy, and I got ...  _furious_. The next second I blink, I'm straddling my grandmother in her suite and she's dead, while the murder weapon is in  _my hands_. I was  _covered_ in my nana's blood, Coraline."

She stepped backward, allowing her spine to press against the cold wall. Her chest went tight, but it wasn't because she was afraid of Gallant, who was standing in front of her with an anxious glare. She simply needed something to lean against, in fear of passing out.

"How ..." Coraline's voice cracked. "How did you cover up the murder?"

Gallant swallowed hard. "That's the thing," he whispered. "Langdon helped me."

Coraline raised a brow. Why in the  _hell_ would Michael help out Gallant with Evie's murder? Killing was one of his favorite past times – thanks to  _the Purge_  – but it seemed unlike him to help out a stranger like that.

"He said it was a minor infraction," Gallant continued. " _Me_ , killing  _my nana_ – a minor infraction. He told me that he was 'charged with finding the seeds from which the future of mankind will blossom.' It would somehow be irresponsible of him to kill me when I could be a viable candidate." He shrugged then, almost lazily. "I mean, I'm  _not_ complaining, but ... there's something wrong about this."

"Uh –  _yeah_ , there's something wrong about that," Coraline tsked. "Was it him who told Venable and the others that Evie died in her sleep to cover it up?"

Gallant nodded quickly, making Coraline's eyes fill with worry. Her foot was tapping as her leg also began to shake. Gallant tried to ignore it and muttered, "You can't tell  _anyone_ , Coraline. I just ...  _really_ needed to get this off my chest and you're the only one I can trust. If you tell anyone, I –"

"Shut up," Coraline whispered loudly. "I won't tell anyone, Gallant. Who would I  _actually_ tell? I'm not close with anyone else."

As Gallant bobbed his head in agreement, Coraline noticed that her last statement had been a lie. She was close with someone else in the Outpost. She just refused to acknowledge  _his_  hold on her.

#####  **__________________________**

Coraline couldn't exactly wrap her head around Michael helping to keep Gallant's secret. Her only guess was that Michael had decided from Evie's first interview that she wasn't fit for the Sanctuary, and Gallant's murder did the work for him. That sounded like something Michael would do. Coraline remembered Coco once saying to Evie that Michael would never pick her for the Sanctuary. "You're ancient!" She had exclaimed. "He's looking for people to repopulate the Earth – not fill a  _bingo hall_."

Perhaps, for once, Coco had been right.

Coraline slapped her back against her bed. Being downstairs amongst the survivors for most of the day really made her appreciate alone time, even though it bored her to death. Dinah's voice from dinner that evening echoed in her ears. She told everyone that the death of Evie Gallant shouldn't leave them divided: "We should allow this to strengthen our ties, and remind ourselves that every moment is precious." Gallant threw his fork at her when she was done.

The purple skirt of Coraline's dress fanned across the bed as she laid there, contemplating if she wanted to rip off her corset and go to bed now. She wouldn't be able to sleep, though. Her mind was awake all hours of the day, allowing bags to constantly hang from her eyes. Whenever she tried to close them, she reminisced on sinful memories that her brain refused to forget.

Rubbing the bridge of her nose, Coraline was suddenly reminded of Michael's red gloves again. Her eyes immediately snapped open, and all she wanted then was to give in to her desires and masturbate to the thought of his hand inside her. But –  _God, fuck!_ Her conscious screamed.  _You're better than that! You're better than hooking up with an ex!_

She really didn't have a choice anyways. Coraline had to perform some sex ritual with him soon enough, but that would be on his terms, not her own. As much as she tried to tell herself that this wasn't a good idea, she  _knew_ that the connection inside of her begged for him to touch her. And it fucking  _sucked_ , because all she wanted to do was be mad at him for putting her in this Outpost when she should've died beside her mother.

She just  _had_ to date the Antichrist in high school. Maybe if she hadn't, things wouldn't have turned out this way. Or maybe this was always fate's plan for her.

As Coraline debated her thoughts on Michael – even though they were quite clear – she heard a sound by her door. Turning her head to the side, she saw a letter that must have been slipped underneath the doorframe. Coraline sat up and raised a brow, hesitantly clicking her heels over. She bent down and picked up the envelope. It was sealed with a dark, red stamp.

Her expression twisted as she ripped open the envelope. (She wasn't fond of opening letters neatly.) Tearing a small notecard out, Coraline flipped the paper over in her hands. She opened the card and saw a simple string of works written in thick, black ink.

_Meet me in my quarters at eight o'clock sharp. –M.L._

Coraline looked up from the letter, and without thinking, she quickly stood and walked over to one of her bedside candles. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she hovered the letter over the flame, allowing the paper to catch on fire. Coraline threw the letter in a trash can and watched the fire crinkled it into ash. She tried to suppress the thought that his letter reminded her of their first date, when she asked him to meet her at her house at the same time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE BONDING CEREMONY IS UP NEXT, SISTERS ;---) Hope you guys are ready for my horribly written smut omg


	27. THE BONDING CEREMONY

#### ACT II: STRANGERS

##### CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

#####  **__________________________**

**CORALINE**  scrubbed her body until it burned. She made sure every part of her was squeaky clean, but still took a few moments to sit in the hot tub and contemplate her decisions. Pulling her knees to her chest, Coraline wondered what would happen tonight. Would she be the same person? Was Michael using this gift she had just so he could initiate the bonding ceremony, only to kill her later on? Somehow, she felt he wouldn't use her like that. If the Michael she was knew was still in there, he wouldn't hurt her. He would never let a flame touch her.

She was playing with fire now. Tonight, she danced with the Devil.

With an aggravated sigh, Coraline stepped out from the tub and got dressed. She left her hair down, but continued to nervously play around with it until she got annoyed –  _again_. She decided to not bother with a corset that night. Her whole body felt tense enough; she didn't need a corset to squeeze her more. She pulled on a dark mauve silk dress, littered with various beads in different shades of purple. Looking in the mirror, she pulled at the short sleeves that hung off her shoulders.

She wasn't sure what time it was, but considering that it was two hours since he slipped the envelope under her door, she had an inkling that it was nearing eight o'clock. Time was of the essence. If there was anything he took from her, it was to never be late.

Opening her door, Coraline felt herself swallow hard as she eyed his suite from across the hall. Her legs ached, pulling her like gravity towards his room. She felt her anxiety rise to an all-time high, and it caused her to look over her shoulder several times to check if someone was watching her. The last thing she needed was someone seeing her walk to the Head of the Cooperative's room at night.

She blinked then, realizing that a force had swept her dress all the way to his door. Her feet moved quicker than she wanted. Coraline stared at the intricate designs carved into the wood, breathing in deeply, before opening the door.

Nothing had changed. The room was dimly lit by several candles. His desk sat idly in the corner, along with a few chairs by the fireplace. Stacks of files resided on the table, begging to be opened. As Coraline closed the door behind her, she noticed the office was empty. Raising a brow, she spoke aloud, "Hello? Anyone here?"

No answer. She turned to the pair of large double doors that led to his bedroom, and found herself swallowing down the bile rising in her throat. Coraline began to walk over to the double doors, careful not to make a sound. She was afraid to even  _breathe_. Coraline hesitantly reached out to knock on the doors, but her hand stopped suddenly.

The doors were opening on their own, causing her to step back. Coraline whole body was frozen in place. She didn't know what to do, so she stood by one of the doors, clutching the wood tightly in her fingers. Slowly inching her head inside the bedroom, her eyes went wide at the sight of Michael standing in a large circle of candles. A dark red button-up hung on his torso, while a pair of untied black pants clung loosely to his hips. The light from the fireplace in front of his setup made him look like some kind of Greek god, but she refused to say that out loud.

He sensed her presence immediately, turning to look at her over his shoulder. "Come forward," he said, averting his eyes away.

Coraline slowly walked into the room and shut the doors behind her, allowing her back to rest against them. Anxiety took over her entire body as she watched him tear off his shirt and throw it on the bed, which was placed a few feet from the circle of candles. Coraline didn't know what to do. She was  _staring_ at him while he  _undressed_. Confusion wracked her brain, and she tried her best to straighten up, but it was hard the second he turned. Her eyes went immediately downward, right to his crotch.

Her conscious was suddenly interested:  _Christ almighty_ —

"Coraline," he called, gesturing with his finger for her to walk forward.

Her eyes met his again, feeling her cheeks flush. The inside of her thighs grew hot, making her want to squeeze them shut. The threads were calling her to him. She fixed her posture and tried to keep up with her cold demeanor as she finally stepped into the candlelight. She stopped right before the large circle, afraid of her dress catching on fire. With a sigh, Michael stepped over the candles and strode forward.

Coraline couldn't breathe when he stood in front of her, glaring down behind his long lashes. He smirked, knowing the effect he had and the confusion cornering every part of her body. He began to circle her, like a predator stalking its prey. Michael watched her swallow hard, hands lingering across the fabric of her dress. Eventually, he stopped to stand behind her. He was completely naked, while she was fully clothed, and somehow, he still dominated the room.

"So," Coraline finally breathed, "how are we going to do this?"

She felt his hands on her spine, causing her eyes to grow wider than ever before. "Just follow my instructions," he whispered, breathing hitting the back of her neck. Their electric connection made her brain go into a frenzy. Michael pulled down the zipper of her dress, allowing it to fall down her bare body. With a quick hand, Coraline held the front of her dress to her chest. She watched him walk away and back into the circle, not bothering to ask her to leave the dress off. He wouldn't push her comfort levels. He knew she would come when she wanted to.

Michael kneeled in the middle of the circle and closed his eyes. Coraline watched him with a confused expression. He reached for a blade that laid in front of him, and before Coraline could do anything, he dug the weapon into his arms. Her mouth opened, but no words could emerge as she watched him drag the knife down his arms, his blood beginning to coat the floor.

"May you rise from the void, Father," he whispered, hardly phased by the pain of his wounds.

Coraline rushed towards the circle, holding her dress to her chest and fisting the fabric in her hand. "Michael, I –" Her voice was louder now – louder than the fire burning in the hearth, louder than his chants. "I'm not sure about this anymore. Why are you  _hurting_ yourself?"

"It's the only way," he replied in a groan, making Coraline step back. He almost dropped the blade in his hand when she spoke. "We can't back out now."

She rubbed at her eyes, chest heaving as she watched him continue to stab his arms. Anger flashed in her eyes. "I'm not  _saying_ that. Are you  _listening_ to me? Stop making yourself –"

"May your darkness guide us through the ceremony," Michael persisted in a low voice, choosing to ignore Coraline's questions. She'd realize soon enough. "Power in Satan to oversee this bond. Power in your name to seal the Trinity."

Tears rolled down his cheeks as blood covered the floor, but didn't venture from the circle of candles. Coraline's mouth trembled, staring at his bleeding arms as they hung at his sides. Michael finally opened his eyes, smiling at the sight of his blood on the wooden ground. Coraline realized that he wasn't  _dying_. He wasn't weak. That was evident by his quick movements: he used his hands to draw a symbol with his blood.

It took Coraline a moment to realize that it was a pentagram. She swallowed down her nerves. This was what her mother said she needed to do. She made a deal and she had to stay by his side. There was no doubt now: Coraline Avery was selling her soul, and she wasn't scared.

Without any fragility, Michael stood to his feet, as if his blood wasn't coating his bare body. Coraline kept her eyes trained on his, daring not to move them down again and make a fool out of herself. He laid out a hand, and she was hesitant, despite the electric threads of their connection reaching out to him.

"Come into the circle," he whispered.

Coraline raised a brow, tilting her head to the side. She wasn't afraid anymore; she was simply teasing. He sighed in an annoyed tone, and as if by magic, her dress pooled to the floor. It fell completely out of her tight grasp. She suddenly regretted not wearing any underclothes, afraid of the constriction. Coraline bit her lip, looking down to the dress, and then back to him. He cocked a brow too, mocking her expression.

She had to just suck it up now. Biting the inside of her cheek, Coraline kicked her dress across the floor and slowly walked forward. She stepped over the candles, feeling their warmth hit the bottoms of her feet, and stood in front of him. She almost forgot how warm he was. Even though both of them were completely bare in front of each other, no goosebumps rose on her skin. The electric connection between them pulled her closer, causing their shoulders to bump into each other.

Coraline searched both his eyes, wondering if she should say something. He was staring at her mouth again, but neither refused to touch each other. Coraline licked her bottom lip and asked, "Are you sure you want my lifeline tied to yours forever?" She was surprised at the amusement in her voice, even when she could barely breathe in his aura. "Seems like quite a commitment."

Michael's lips curled, and before she could respond, he grabbed both sides of her cheeks and pressed his mouth onto hers. The energy flooded through her like a fucking train, making her eyes immediately open. The memories ran through her mind, reminding her of their first kiss, and how he barely knew what to do. It was  _so_ different now. His hands gripped her firmly, pulling her closer. Coraline forgot how good it felt to kiss him. She felt revived. She felt everything all over again.

He carefully brought them both to the ground. Coraline kneeled, but arched her back so she could have the upper hand. She wondered if this was truly her betrayal of God. They were suddenly in the Garden of Gethsemane, and Michael had the kiss of Judas.

Her fingers tangled in his hair, mimicking the electric thread that was currently tying around their joined bodies. The energy flowed between them as his tongue invaded her mouth, and she felt every hair on her skin stand up. She had wanted this for  _so long_ , even though her conscious had denied her of it. This was what she had been dying for, the sick, sweet warmth of his mouth on hers. She had to admit her truth: the second she saw Michael again, her anger had made her longing for him all the more powerful.

Michael's arms wove around her waist, but one hand continued to inch downward, sliding down her thighs. She was completely caught off guard when she felt one of his fingers enter in her. Her mouth suddenly left his, and he smirked ever so casually. Coraline's eyes stayed closed and she clamped her teeth down on her bottom lip, refusing to release a moan as he pumped his finger in and out.  _Jesus fucking Christ_ , she thought, pressing her face into his sharp cheekbone,  _where did he learn_ this _?_

Another finger entered. And then another. Her bare skin was all over his, allowing the blood from his wounds to create a mess on her chest. She didn't care. The stickiness didn't both her one bit as she finally let a moan escape her lips. She wanted nothing more than to seal the bond and fuck him senseless, like how she wanted to weeks ago.

But then she opened her eyes when she felt his fingers slide from her folds. Wetness coated her thighs, dripping like holy water. In his free hand, Michael lifted her right arm, watching her with lust-filled eyes as his mouth dragged across her skin, stopping at the cross tattoo on her wrist. Coraline's lips parted when he kissed the tattoo, and then nipped at her skin. She didn't yelp, but a scream almost clogged in her throat when he moved his lips away from her wrist.

The tattoo was gone.

He was grinning again. Licking her lips, she shoved him to the floor covered in crimson blood. Coraline straddled his lap, breath hitching in her throat as she began to ride his erect member. She closed her eyes, feeling his hands snake around her waist. She gripped his shoulders, moving back and forth on his lap, digging her nails into his shoulder. She couldn't believe that she was doing this. She couldn't believe that  _she_  was fucking  _Michael Langdon_.

This was her ex-boyfriend. This was her Satanist neighbor. This was the man she had looked for in every partner she found. And now, he was in the palm of her hands.

His hands roamed her chest, spreading the blood all over her. He bit on different areas of her neck and claimed his territory. His lips then hovered over hers, and he realized they still tasted like candy. She breathed hot and heavy into his mouth, puncturing his skin with her nails. He was sure she'd draw blood. Her moans were inescapable as she moved faster, filling her core with his length. He could feel the bond bringing them closer – close enough that the blood on their chests was mingling and bubbling.

The room felt like a blazing fire. Sweat coated Coraline's brow, but she couldn't stop. Random pieces of hair stuck to her forehead, and she didn't bother to push them away. Michael enjoyed the sight of her frenzy, mouthing turning upward. His nose brushed her own, and she heard him whisper into her open mouth, " _Ave Satanas_."

Coraline couldn't form a coherent word. The room was filled to the brink with her hisses as pulled him closer, riding him recklessly, as if the Devil was chasing her.

"Say it,  _Coraline Rose_ ," he hissed, dragging his tongue across her lip. "Say it or the bond won't be sealed."

Coraline panted heavily, grinding her teeth together and lifting her chin. " _Ave_  –" She paused, voice growing thick. " _Ave Satanas_."

The blood below them began to boil. The crimson enveloping every part of their skin bubbled on the surface, burning Coraline's flesh, but she didn't pull away. Snakes emerged from the red pool, slithering underneath the surface. Their hisses were louder than Coraline's moans as she felt her core about to burst. She knew they were there, but she wasn't afraid of them.

She wasn't afraid of anything anymore.

As they disconnected, Coraline felt her climax spill all over his leg. She sat on his right thigh, gripping his shoulders and laying her head in the crook of his neck. Biting into his shoulder, she felt her eyes glaze over. They had turned fully white, while his were nothing but an eerie black. Coraline entered a dream-like trance and felt everything all at once, relishing in the warmth of his body. She wondered if this was what an addict felt when they consumed their drug of choice. Did they feel so powerful that they could withstand a raging bullet? The blood around them began to seep into the floorboards, but their skin was still covered in dark red.

The bond had been made. Coraline knew how it felt to kiss him so long ago; she knew just the smallest amount of energy from his mouth could drive her crazy. But  _this_ was different. This was something so powerful; something she could never feel before. She saw a brilliant, bright light in her white eyes, showing her a red thread that connected her life to his. The red string of fate.

As Michael's arms snaked around her waist, Coraline felt her soul abandon God. Her eyes returned to their normal grey state, but her entity was tainted red. She twisted her right arm around, staring at the wrist that was now free of a cross tattoo. It was then that she realized her life was suddenly changed forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean......what can I really say about this LMAOOOO
> 
> When my friends first read this, they said it was like looking through my mind's eye and that is ACCURATE. A big inspo for most of my smut chapters is deadass most songs by Chase Atlantic, specifically, *clears throat* Devilish, Church, Dancer in the Dark, and Numb to the Feeling. Chase Atlantic is so underrated, PLEASSSSSEEEE check them out!!!


	28. ORIGINAL SIN

#### ACT II: STRANGERS

##### CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

#####  **__________________________**

**SOMETIMES**  the most forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest. Coraline wondered how delicious the apple of knowledge from the Garden of Eden must have tasted for Adam and Eve to go against God. Sin had never tasted so sweet.

There wasn't a day where Coraline wasn't in Michael's suite. She was so hungry now; every part of her craved him. She rode him until the morning hours, while everyone else was dozing away in their beds. (Except, Coraline requested no more blood play be involved. She was  _seriously_ not into that.)

The survivors of Outpost 3 were growing restless. It had been weeks since Michael's arrival, and his promise to have the selections for the Sanctuary known in just a few days ran dry. Venable and Ms. Mead were oddly quiet about the long wait with the selections, making some wonder what they were planning. The survivors, however, were still left in the cold. They wanted answers, leaving them completely unaware that Coraline Avery was fucking the head of the Cooperative every night after dinner.

It wasn't like she hid it that well. Coco almost caught them when she decided to bang on Michael's door, yelling at him for answers, until she finally decided to give up. Coraline had never been truly slick with sneaking out either. Michael was known to frequently bite at her shoulders, covering her skin in marks from his sickly-sweet teeth. Thankfully, she was able to cover these with long-sleeved dresses, but some had the possibility of slipping out from the fabric.

Coraline wasn't sure how she was supposed to feel after the bonding ceremony.  _Everything_  felt different now. Her body was warmer. Her heart was hungrier. Her blood surged with energy during all hours, making it even harder to sleep than before. Every single part of her felt empowered, like a volcano waiting to erupt. She speculated when her next vision would come, and if that would feel different too. Michael told her the visions would be more accurate now, and hardly repeat themselves.

She wondered if this power came from her deal with the Devil. No doubt that she had sold her soul. There was no way she'd be getting into Heaven now. As Coraline would pull up her sleeves and eye the place where her cross tattoo used to be, she knew that being in God's good graces wasn't in the cards for her. It's a good thing she wasn't afraid of Hell anymore.

Michael, on the hand, knew exactly what was happening to his body. He had been preparing for this since his Father first gave him the instructions. He had the power to rebuild the world now. To make something new. He just had to anticipate his Father's next plan, but while he was waiting, Coraline Avery  _herself_ was taking advantage of that new power coursing through his veins. Though he was certainly more powerful than her, the Trinity bond made her want him more than ever. Michael frequently liked to call himself the King of Everything before his head went in between her thighs, and she would yank on his hair, pulling him forward.

The bond sealed their skins together like glue. While the fire burned in the room and Michael thrust in and out of her, his suite was filled with utterings of, " _Coraline Rose_ ,  _Coraline Rose_ ,  _Coraline Rose_ ," as if it were a form of worship, as if she were a goddess. Coraline didn't think she was some kind of deity, but when Michael whispered that name, she almost believed it.

_Coraline Rose_.  _Coraline Rose_.  _Coraline Rose_. A goddess – that was what she was. When Michael touched her and felt the bond radiate through her skin, he knew that she had been molded into some kind of prophetic deity of his dreams. He always used to have nightmares. Not anymore.

Her name was like a prayer, and he said it every night, hissing in her ear as she tugged on his long hair.

Coraline knew the feelings would come back eventually. She thought she had buried them – submerged them deep into her mind, like she was tossing a coffin of dead memories into the ground. They weren't dead anymore. They were alive more than ever. The bond heightened every emotion left in her body, causing those suppress feelings to slither their way back up. She didn't just crave him now because the bond made her feel that way. She craved him because she feared she could love him again – devilish qualities and all. They were bound together like two parasites trying to devour each other. Or maybe they were simply demons.

Each time they were intimate – no matter what – she was reminded of their past, of the care and love she once had for him. It  _sucked_ , because she knew the sunshine boy her young heart loved was gone. And while she desired his sinful touch more than anything in the barren world, she knew she could love this man who ended the world –  _this Antichrist_. After all the shit he'd done, a part of her didn't care. That part wanted him forever, until nuclear winter turned them both to ash.

This couldn't have been part of destiny. The False Prophet shouldn't have loved the Antichrist. But Coraline Avery was an exception.

Maybe fate had predicted this from the beginning of time. Love had never come to her easily, or frequently stayed around. Coraline wasn't even sure if what she was feeling for Michael again was passionate lust or love, because the latter hadn't been taught to her. The affair of her parents ruined it. The day Jacob Avery walked out told Coraline that love wasn't permanent, but maybe things could change in the means of the end of the world.

When Michael stared at her while brushing a finger across her lips, she felt like they could break the tradition. Sometimes he would hold her after they were intimate, and sometimes he would walk away, but the feeling of his arms around her stayed for a long time, reminding her of what they once had. She would never admit that, though.

In times like these, Coraline was reminded of her mother. Weeks before the bombs were dropped, Coraline was sure her mother had fallen in love again – for good this time. But it wasn't with a man, or woman. It was with her damn Bible. She had fallen in love with God to cope with all the bullshit she had been put through as a trophy wife. But on that fateful day, Coraline had found her mother sitting alone in the living room, reading her favorite religious passages. Coraline had come back from a terrible date, and when she rehashed it all to her indignant mother, Francesca clutched the leather-bound Bible to her chest and placed a hand on her daughter's arm.

"Maybe you could learn to love him, like how I learned to love  _Him_." She had looked up to the ceiling, sighing dreamily, before smiling Coraline's way. "True love is loving the unlovable, Cora. Don't forget that."

Coraline felt a hand graze her bare thigh, bringing her out of her trance.  _True love is loving the unlovable_  refused to leave her mind.

She lazily sat in the tub of Michael's suite. It was late – later than usual. He complained that he had been busy with business, which caused him to make her wait for their evening activity. Coraline didn't want to ask what he meant by business, so she decided to retire into the bathtub, trying to clean the hair that she hadn't washed in a week. His bathroom was almost as big as his bedroom, containing a large, golden tub and even a shower head. A large, red-rimmed mirror with intricate designs stood by the door, while a porcelain sink filled to the brink with amenities was built near the shower. The floor was all wood, causing a chill to run down Coraline's feet as she stepped on it.

When she felt Michael's fingers on her leg, she could've sworn a sizzle appeared on the surface of her skin. Her arms hung off the sides of the tub, while her legs were propped up on the side. She turned to him abruptly, taking in his bare form as he joined her in the bathtub without a word. Michael sighed heavily as he took a seat on the other end of the long tub, right where her feet hung. As he splashed water into his hair, Coraline raised a brow. His eye bags were bigger than hers, but it was probably because she never let him get any sleep. Coraline was too busy wanting to fuck his brains out each and every night.

The water had been running cold, but once Michael stepped inside, Coraline noticed the water begin to bubble. She smiled and settled herself into it, but became too aware that they were  _both_  naked in this tub and she hadn't touched him that day at all. It was all she could think about. Her mind went into a frenzy as the electric thread made her fingers itch for his own. She began to come up with ways on how she could take him right there and then.

But her conscious still lingered.  _Jeez_ , it chastised,  _can you be normal for one second?_ Coraline knew she couldn't. Normality wasn't a gift for her anymore.

As if he could hear the inner workings of her mind, Michael lifted his chin and sneered. He had been rubbing at his eyes, but that distress suddenly vanished. His eyes traveled to her exposed legs for a moment, and then went back to her face, taking in her clenched teeth and wide eyes. "Your thoughts are very loud, Coraline," he muttered.

With a fake grin, she leaned back into the tub more. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're lying."

The wet hair lying against her spine felt so cold. "Those Satanic gifts of yours are so unfair," she spoke through gritted teeth. "Stay out of my mind."

Michael hummed, allowing his lips to curl even further. He raised one of his arms to lay it across the lip of the tub, allowing his fingers to run dangerously close to her leg.

"You seemed so lost in thought before," Coraline muttered, suddenly changing the subject. Anything to get them away from the one at hand. She tilted her head to the side, a challenging expression on her face. "Using that  _big_ ,  _bad_ , Chosen One brain of yours to come up with a plan to rebuild the world?"

He rubbed a finger over his mouth, perplexed by her statement. It was hard for his eyes to not leave her own. Michael soon found himself noticing that the water came just high enough to cover her bare breasts. He had to fight the urge to move closer, knowing that she liked to be in control most of the time, and he never complained about that. Michael was used to being the dominant one when he was intimate with another person, but he enjoyed when a partner wanted to take over that role for him. Out of all people, he wasn't surprised that Coraline Avery was that type of person.

"Complimenting my mind," he purred, brows knitting together. "Are you trying  _that_  hard to get into the Sanctuary?"

Coraline snorted and turned her face away. "I could honestly care less."

Michael's eyes went narrow. "You  _should_  care. You need to be beside me to see the new world."

With that statement, her eyes connected with his again. She swallowed hard. His face softened. A flash of care echoed across his stare, but it vanished quickly. She still noticed it; she knew the care was there. The need for her presence was buried deep within his chest, and that thought alone sent shivers down her spine.

Nevertheless, her daring expression never ceased. She settled into the water more and hugged her arms around herself. Goosebumps littered across her skin. "And what's  _convincing_  me to go if I'm accepted?" She asked, raising a brow.

Michael's look matched her own. She noticed his chest puff with rage, and she could smell it –  _like copper_. He cocked a blonde brow upward, inching his right hand on the lip of the tub towards her propped-up legs. The room was eerily silent. Coraline could only hear her loud breathing. Their stares never left each other as Michael brushed his fingers down one of her legs. They trailed downward, reaching the middle of her thigh, where they stopped. He gripped the extra skin on her thigh tightly.

His touch made her mind swim, but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Coraline quickly retracted her legs back into the water and smirked at his cold attitude. She casually flicked water in his direction with her foot, making him blink a few times. Giggling under her breath, Coraline moved forward in the large tub, stopping right in the middle to hang one arm off the side. She rested her chin on it.

"When did you become so ..." She scrunched up her nose. " _Suggestive_? Whenever I would ask if you wanted any favors in the past, you always refused them. What changed?"

Michael ran a hand through his long hair, the ends getting slightly wet. "I grew up," he replied, eyes raking down the exposed part of her torso, "and so did you."

Coraline's stomach dropped. Michael saw it instantly on her face; he knew he'd gotten to her then. She began to bite the inside of her cheek, before a smug smile graced her lips. "You still haven't convinced me quite yet to go with you to the Sanctuary," she reminded.

Michael slowly moved forward, staring at her curled lips with a smirk of his own. Coraline shoved him back into the tub and leaned into his face. He released a sinister chuckle at her closeness, already feeling her sitting on top of his legs.

"Where's that convincing,  _Langdon_?" She asked in a teasing way, causing his jaw to clench. Coraline cocked her head to the side and moved closer to his lap, realizing how hard he was already. She hummed, looking down into the clear water, and then back to his face. "I don't hear any convincing,  _sir_."

That was his last straw. Michael grabbed her from underneath the water, pulling her closer so that she was situated right above his lap. Coraline towered over him, still tilting her head. Her smirk never ceased. Leaning into his face, she carefully brushed her lips across his. The inside of her thighs were already slick as his hands massaged her backside. Her grin spread further, "Good convincing."

His breathing fanned her face, silently pleading for her to sit on top of him. She liked it – the begging, the admiration. It was something she didn't expect from Michael Langdon, but she guessed the bonding ceremony had changed them both in the most obscene ways.

A hiss released from the deepest part of her throat as she slid on top of his erection. She heaved in short breaths, digging her teeth into her bottom lip as she slowly started to steer him wildly. The electric threads stuck them together like hot glue. Michael leaned forward, raising his hands from her bottom to her hips, and then her back. His lips smothered her chest covered in goosebumps, nipping and kissing in places that weren't already marked by him. His shoulders were still permanently scarred from her nails puncturing his skin during the bonding ceremony. She couldn't help but open the wounds all over again.

Before she could stop herself, she found her hands weaving themselves into his hair. She moved back and forth, digging his length deeper within her, faster and faster. Coraline hastily pulled at his long locks to bring him closer, surprised at the moan that escaped his lips and hit her face like a heated bullet. It was her name. He moaned it six times, right against her mouth.

_Coraline Rose_.  _Coraline Rose_.  _Coraline Rose_.  _Coraline Rose_.  _Coraline Rose_.  _Coraline Rose_.

Coraline wanted to feel him closer – deeper. Her delicate fingers tugged on his hair more, taking his bottom lip into her mouth and pulling. Their lips couldn't stop themselves from connecting, moving in sync, as if they were made for each other. He smiled into the kiss, thrusting her closer to his chest by her waist. He wanted her. He  _had_ to have wanted her. She had never been so thoroughly convinced as she rode his lap, moving quicker the moment he muttered, "Faster, Coraline Rose. Faster."

But then her vision submerged into darkness.

Coraline released a gasp, but it wasn't audible. She opened her eyes and realized she wasn't with Michael anymore. She wasn't even in the bathtub. Coraline was naked in the middle of the Outpost, which was eerily quiet. The candles flickered and an old Fleetwood Mac tune played softly in the background, barely heard over Coraline's loud breathing.

She knew this was a vision. She didn't have a doubt about it, but as she wrapped her arms around her chest, all she could do was wonder  _why_ she was left bare. A cold breeze ran across her body, making the goosebumps firmer on her skin. She walked forward and sniffed, noticing the scent of rotting flesh coming from down the hall. She followed the Fleetwood Mac song, stopping dead in her tracks once she reached the end of the corridor, right at the entrance of the library.

Bodies were littered everywhere. Foam emerged from their blue lips as vomit pooled under their heads. Each of the survivors wore exquisite gowns and costumes, but it didn't matter as Coraline carefully strode forward and realized they were all  _dead_. Apples lay just by their fingertips, a single bite etched into the red skin.

They didn't die from the nuclear winter outside. They were murdered.

Coraline choked on air as she escaped the vision, feeling her core burst inside of her. Michael had been holding her face, searching her eyes from any sign of life, as she quickly pulled herself off his length and came inside the tub's water. She didn't have a moment to enjoy the release of her orgasm as the reality of the situation hit her. Coraline cupped a hand over her mouth. She was  _mortified_. He had seen her in a vision state. He had to have seen it.

She quickly stood from the bathtub and jumped out, grabbing a towel that laid on the edge of the sink. Pressing the fabric into her face, Coraline shook her head, still feeling the wetness glide down from the inside of her thighs.  _Out of all moments for a vision to come_ , she thought,  _it had to be_  now.

Coraline looked in the mirror, hesitantly meeting his eyes. "Coraline," Michael called sternly. He stood and walked out of the water, not bothering to cover himself up. Coraline quickly tied the towel around her body and turned to face him. He grabbed his velvet jacket that had been laying on the side of the sink, and he handed it to her with ease.

She looked from the jacket to his eyes. It was odd to see the sudden shift in his stare. Just a few minutes ago, he looked at her with lust and  _only_ lust. But now, affection was all she saw. His expression softened as she took the jacket and hugged it over her shoulders. It was warm and smelled like him.

"What happened?" He implored, calmer this time. Michael stepped forward, despite his bareness. Normally, this state of him would make Coraline want to take him all over again, but she didn't have time to think about that. When she began to bite on her top lip, he asked, "Was I  _too_ –"

"No, no. It wasn't any of that." She shook her head and looked to her feet for a moment. Crossing her arms over her chest, she said, "You saw, didn't you? You know what happened."

Michael frowned, brushing a finger over the raised skin on one of her arms. "You had a vision," he clarified.

"Yes," she swallowed hard. "Something bad is going to happen to everyone in this Outpost, and I'm not sure what to do about it."

Both their bodies dripped water onto the floor. That's all Coraline could hear –  _drip_ ,  _drip_ ,  _drip_. The silence was irritating as Michael stared at her with concern. His eyes eventually narrowed, and he lifted his pointed chin. He watched her lips part, and he fought the urge to kiss her again.

Tucking a piece of wet hair behind her ear, Michael felt the spark of their connection. "Tell me."

With his allusive stare, she knew he didn't have to tell her twice. The memory of her vision came out of her mouth like vomit, and for some reason, Michael hadn't looked surprised at what she saw.


	29. A CONFESSION

#### ACT II: STRANGERS

##### CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

#####  **__________________________**

**CORALINE**  had never felt more anxious. Her mind liked to deceive her at the worst moments, showing her images of apples that haunted her for days. Sometimes she would wake up to see half-eaten apples covering her bedroom floor, but the second she blinked, they were gone. She couldn't stop thinking about the foam and vomit lingering around the survivors' corpses. A vision like that was difficult to forget.

Michael told her not to worry, though, as if that was  _so easy_. She didn't understand why he was being so nonchalant about it. He told her before that the bonding ceremony made her "third eye stronger," meaning that her visions would be more accurate. If that was the case, then this apple trick was bound to happen, but  _when_?

Over the next two days, Coraline couldn't stop bringing it up. She asked him if there was some kind of symbolism for the apples that she just wasn't grasping, but Michael would tell her that it wasn't worth her getting stressed over. She didn't believe that. The only way he finally got her to shut up was pinning her against a wall in the shower and allowing her to have her way with him. Always the master of control.

Coraline decided that she needed to grin and bear it. She needed to ignore the façades of apples and continue keeping her third eye open to suspicions. It was obvious that Ms. Mead and Ms. Venable had to be involved somehow, since they hadn't been part of the group lying dead on the ground. But they could've also died in another place, if that were the case. She wasn't quite convinced of their innocence.

Late in the afternoon, Coraline decided to take a walk to see what her two superiors were up to. Maybe they would prove her suspicions wrong. As Coraline strode by the kitchens, she was suddenly reminded of the pain throbbing in between her thighs. This Trinity bond was surely going to kill her, and for the sake of her own legs, she hoped these sexual desires could cease for just  _a day_.

Rubbing a hand over her eyes, Coraline rounded the corner of the library and headed for the dining hall. Venable had to be somewhere around there, but what would she ask her? Coraline was no detective, by any means. Her thoughts were quickly interrupted once she heard whispers emerge from the library. She stopped by the entrance, stepping back and pressing her face into the doorframe. Peering over the side, she spotted Gallant and Coco sitting in front of the fire. A wicked smile engulfed Coco's face, and she turned slightly towards the entrance to make sure no one was listening. Coraline hid again, but still lingered by the frame.

"I finally had my  _second_ interview with Langdon," she whispered eagerly, "which proves he's been thinking about me all this time. The selections  _have_ to be coming soon."

Gallant scoffed, "I'm starting to think we all might just die here from hunger."

"Oh,  _hush up_ ," Coco snickered. "Don't be jealous that  _I'm_ getting into the Sanctuary."

Coraline rolled her eyes. There was no way he'd let in that bottled blonde with no personality.

Apparently, Gallant had the same reaction. He released a short laugh. "And what makes you think  _that_?"

Coco's loud sipping echoed throughout the quiet room, making Coraline cringe. " _You know_ ," she whispered.

"What  _do_  I know, Coco?"

"Well, I  _might've_  had to pull the same shit you did during this second interview." She sipped again, taking a longer time to respond. "Selling my body isn't exactly something I stand for, but ... it was my only way to get into the Sanctuary. I  _know_  he's going to pick me now. I just know it."

Gallant couldn't find the words to respond. Neither could Coraline as she stood there, hidden by the door frame, mouth hanging open.

"Maybe  _I_ have a special connection with Langdon as well," Coco sneered.

Coraline's body was shaking, and her face had probably flushed a bright red. Michael putting the moves on Gallant was one thing – but fucking  _Coco_? That was an  _entirely_ different story. She couldn't believe it. She really couldn't. Steam practically blew from her ears as she began to stomp away. From inside the library, Gallant turned to the entrance and furrowed his brow at the loud noise.

She retraced her steps back upstairs, completely abandoning the dumb idea to interrogate Venable. Coraline's hands formed into fists. She had to pick up her skirt just to make herself go faster. Some of these people felt the  _need_ to exclude her, and she finally had one thing that was  _hers_. The one thing that made her heart beat wildly and caused her walls to soften. The one thing that made her believe that maybe devotion could come back to her –  _if_  what she felt for Michael was truly that. (She wasn't so sure.) Coco was trying to take that one thing, and Coraline wouldn't let her have it. Over her dead body.

In the back of her mind, Coraline really  _didn't_ believe that Coco had sex with Michael. He wouldn't touch her even with a ten-foot pole. Yet, she found her blood pumping at an abnormal pressure. She hadn't been  _that_ jealous of Gallant when he claimed that he had sex with Michael before, so why did it all change with Coco? She could only guess that this was yet another side effect of the bond, because her emotions were at an all-time high now.

Coraline pounded her fist against the door of his suite. A minute passed, and she decided that she had been waiting far too long. She was about to punch the next person she saw if she couldn't talk to him right now. Another minute went by. Coraline groaned loudly and shoved her way through the unlocked door, slamming it with her back.

Michael sat at his desk, not bothering to look up as she entered the room. He was on his laptop. Coraline didn't have the time to question just  _how_ that was working with the lack of power lines outside, and instead, she stomped forward to the middle of the room, just five feet away from him.

Placing her hands on her hips, Coraline scoffed, " _Hello_?"

"I have important business to attend to, Coraline," he answered in monotone, "and this  _isn't_  your usual hour."

"We need to talk  _now_ ," she demanded with a pointed finger.

Michael simply chuckled, still typing on his laptop.

Coraline's eyes blazed with anger, fire igniting in her core. She pulled down the top her dress just the slightest bit, allowing more of her chest to spill out, and then trudged forward. She stood right in front of his laptop, towering over him in his chair.

"Do you want to explain yourself?" She implored, venom laced in her tone.

No answer. Michael continued to stare at the bright screen with a furrowed brow.

Coraline's hand shot out, and she slapped the laptop screen shut, leaning over the edge of the desk. Michael looked from her hand on the laptop to her angry, grey eyes. He huffed under his breath and frowned. "Well,  _that_ was just rude," he replied.

" _Seriously_?" Coraline seethed. "That's  _all_  you have to say?"

Michael narrowed his stare. "Are you ...  _looking_  for something from me?"

"I want a confession," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "Did you fuck Coco and select her for the Sanctuary?"

He tried so hard to suppress a laugh, but it all came spilling out like vomit. Amusement danced in Michael's eyes as he chuckled at her, noticing her fury intensify. Her eyes went wide and her whole body shook.

"Are you serious?" He finally asked.

Coraline's eyes darted from his own to the fire on her left. " _Obviously_ ," she fumed, "why ... why would you –"

"I don't know, Coraline Rose," he hissed, mouth curling in a sick kind of way. Michael turned away from her for a moment, scooting his chair over to the stack of files that he had moved to the floor. He picked one off the top and opened it lazily. "Why  _would_ I fuck Coco?"

Her eyes went wide when she realized how irrational she was being, but for some reason, she couldn't  _stop it_. Her blood pressure was too high. She  _didn't_ believe Michael would be attracted to Coco in any way – even if it benefitted him – but a force inside of her wouldn't stop the jealousy from brewing. She was sure that her eyes were turning green as they spoke.

"I ... I don't know," she muttered.

Michael hummed, continuing to look through the manila folder, "And what would you do if I did?"

Coraline's rage burst then. Her stare was no longer green – it had to be full on red. She was burning up. All she saw was bright crimson. Her forehead felt hot, a sheen of sweat covered it. He was  _ignoring_ her now, humming away as he threw the manila file to the floor again. Coraline felt the urge to punch him in his pretty, little face, but he might enjoy that. God knows his dick got hard when she almost slapped him once.

She just – she  _needed_  to do something. Michael Langdon would  _not_ walk over her like this and allow her unwanted jealousy to believe a lie.

Coraline's blood boiled as he finally turned in his chair to face her. Michael smiled, brows lifting as he waited for her to make a move. Without a second thought, her heels clicked forward, and she sat right on top of his left leg. She straddled it gracefully – as graceful as she could in her  _large_ ,  _ugly_  dress – and Michael's hands instinctively gripped her waist, pulling her closer. Coraline dug her nails into his shoulders, but it caused Michael no harm. He  _smirked_ at the feeling of her claws puncturing his suit.

She looked right into his eyes, and he grinned at the sight of her stare blazing with madness. Coraline clung to his shoulders, beginning to move back and forth on his thigh. Dominance took over her entire body, and all she wanted was to assert it, even if she believed Coco had been lying. Coraline rode Michael's thigh, licking her lips as his face leaned into her neck, giving into his desire. Coraline could do nothing but moan softly and dig her fingers deeper into him, feeling wetness seep from her inner thighs.

Her lips were drying from her mouth hanging open. She could simply  _feel_ his sneer as his hands pressed themselves deeper into her hips, before traveling to her arms. He straightened, grabbing her face and making her stare at his wicked grin as she rode his leg faster. Coraline couldn't even let her eyes roll to the back of her head. He  _wanted_ to see her face as she fucked his leg.

"The bond," he inhaled quickly, baring his teeth as he did so. "It's made your skin so much warmer. Every emotion of yours has heightened."

Coraline kept her stare focused on him as he brushed a thumb across her lips. She was tempted to bite on it, but she wouldn't give him the full satisfaction right now. She wanted to stain his pants. She wanted everyone to see who  _she_ was, especially Coco and everyone else who thought that the Leader of the Cooperative wanted to fuck them. They were wrong. He wanted to have  _her_. The bonding ceremony made sure of that.

"Answer a question for me," he swallowed hard, slipping a hand underneath her skirt and dragging it down her leg. Coraline bit her lip, close to collapsing as she continued to move up and down. "Do you  _really_  believe I would fuck someone as  _brainless_  as Coco?"

She didn't have the strength to even reply. It took her a long moment, while Michael watched with fulfillment. She was trying to overpower him, but just this simple act was causing her to cave into his every whim.

"I don't know," she breathed. "Coco would do anything to have her way." Her eyes rolled from side to side, and  _of course_ , at that moment, Coco's words reminded her of a certain mean girl from high school. This wasn't the time to be thinking about Heather  _fucking_ Beaumont.

"But that's exactly what  _you_  want,  _correct_?" He jerked her closer and brushed his lips across her own. His arms tightened around her waist, allowing her wetness to drag all the way to his groin. She moved back and forth, denying him of any kiss as he continued, "That's the reason why you came here. The bond overwhelmed your sense of intuition, making you believe a lie."

She could feel him getting hard in his pants. Coraline grinned then, the same way he would. "And what was the truth behind that lie,  _sir_?"

"You came here –" He paused, biting down on her bottom lip and making her moan. "– So  _you_  could have your way  _with me_."

Coraline bit her tongue. True. It was all true. She didn't even have to reply; he already knew.

"You now have a sense of dominance that matches mine." A chuckle rose from his mouth and entered her own. "I like it."

Coraline pursed her lips and wrinkled her nose. "Fuck off," she exhaled, grinding on his lap.

Within seconds, she was climaxing onto his trousers and belt. She finally allowed his lips to smother her own, tongue tangling with hers. He tasted her candy-sweet mouth, unexpectedly shoving two fingers into her folds. The sharp coldness of his rings caused her to shiver. Coraline's mouth leaned away from his. She moved up and down again, muttering in his ear to go faster and faster. Breaths clogged her throat and she kissed the side of his face, right on his sharp cheekbone. His hand was rough and hit her sweet spot. He knew exactly where it was. No one else ever did. His fingers moved in quick circles, causing her to whisper his complete name. Everyone else knew him as  _Langdon_ , but only Coraline was allowed to say his full title.

Coraline rocked back and forth. He entered a third finger, pressing deeper into her. Her breath hitched in her throat. She tangled her arms around his neck, hot breaths fanning his cheek. His lips were at her ear as he muttered, "You're so jealous now. It's funny,  _really_ , because I'm the only person who could ever make you feel this way." She could practically  _hear_ the smirk playing at his lips. "Isn't that right,  _Coraline Rose_?"

True again. Her response came in the form of a soft whimper entering his ear. He was  _right_ , and she didn't want to admit it. Her hormones had been all over the place since the bonding ceremony. Coraline could barely keep her hands off him. She  _was_  catching feelings, and they were irresistible and difficult to keep at bay.  _True love is loving the unlovable_ , her mother's voice echoed in her ear. She moved hard, feeling his fingers curl inside her.

"Do you want me all to yourself?" He asked quieter, yet so much more demanding.

Coraline managed a nod. "Yes," she swallowed hard.

She was trying to be as quiet as possible, even placing her own finger in her mouth, but nothing could stop the loud sigh escaping her lips as she came again, coating his hand. She quivered and shook in his hold. Michael grinned, pressing his mouth to her temples.

Coraline looked down, noticing the stain covering his clothes and hand. She laughed darkly.  _What a way to mark your territory_ , her conscious reprimanded.

Michael removed his hand from underneath her dress, glancing to his pants. Coraline stepped up, biting the edge of her fingernail as she tried to suppress a laugh. She had been  _everywhere_. Her orgasm traveled across the length of his trousers, all the way to his belt buckle. The good person inside of Coraline told her that she should help clean it off him, but the sight was just  _too_ funny.

"Shit," he muttered, wringing out one of his hands.

Coraline crossed her arms over her chest. "Make sure Coco sees that. It'll be  _hilarious_."

#####  **__________________________**

Coraline felt accomplished once evening came. She had been sitting in the library after dinner, Gallant and Coco by her sides, chatting away. Coraline curled her legs under her, playing with the beads of her dress top as Gallant discussed what he thought the Sanctuary would look like.

"Hell if you will ever find out," Coco scoffed his way. "Don't get me wrong – I  _love_ you – but  _I_ will be the only one seeing that Sanctuary. Except for maybe Dinah. It seems like she has her claws sunk into Langdon."

Coraline looked up from where she had been staring at her nails. She ended up finding a nail filer in the depths of her bathroom, and was currently dragging it across her chipped cuticles. Gallant sent Coco a glare, opening his mouth to speak, but they were all left breathless. The scent of roses wafted through the room.

From the library's entryway, the three survivors spied the head of the Cooperative scowling down at Ms. Venable, who was chastising him with a pointed finger. No doubt that she was complaining about his selection process, but all he had to do was lift a hand to silence her hushed criticisms. However, their whispers alone weren't the only thing that got the survivors to look over.

At the top of his dark pants, there was a vile, gross stain on the fabric. It was  _so_ obvious to the three survivors what the stain was – you had to be an idiot not to notice. Gallant's mouth hung open. Coco was speechless –  _for once_. But Coraline was absolutely  _relishing_ in it. He hadn't cleaned off his pants. He was teasing  _all_ of them, and it was very entertaining for her.

Michael quickly glanced in her direction on the couch. He lifted his brow for a split second, almost too fast to notice. Coraline bit the end of her nail filer, trying to contain her giggles. Both Gallant  _and_ Coco knew the Big, Bad Cooperative Leader had to be fucking someone now, but they just needed to figure out who. A sick grin appeared on Coraline's lips.

Outside the premises of the Outpost, Ms. Mead and the Fist wondered if they should be grinning the same way. An empty, horse-drawn carriage arrived at the gates, containing a heavy metal case from the Cooperative. Ms. Mead shared a curious glance with the Fist through their masks. Whatever rested inside the case was either their saving grace or ultimate downfall.

Forbidden fruit could do both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I PROMISE THERE IS A PLOT HERE ASDHDUHUSHJSAIKJSNJ


	30. AN APPLE A DAY

#### ACT II: STRANGERS

##### CHAPTER THIRTY

#####  **__________________________**

**THE**  apples adorning the tree in the Garden of Eden were supposed to be the sweetest ever created. Sugary and satisfying, but all the more deadly. When Francesca began her search for God after the death of Jacob, she refused to keep apples in her house, believing that they were the fruit of evil. Despite her lack of religion, Coraline somewhat believed her mother. Apples always left a bad taste in her mouth.

So when she found a case full of the dark red fruit in the fridge with Gallant, she suspected nothing but trouble.

It wasn't hard to guess that something sinister was going on when the two friends noticed Ms. Mead and Venable whispering in the hallway near the kitchen. Gallant suggested they check out the fridge once the Greys left the kitchen, which was completely against Coraline's better judgment. The fridge was still locked behind a door, and it took more than a little jiggling this time to open it. Coraline had to take a pin out of her hair and wiggle the lock loose. Eventually, she swung the door open, and Gallant went for the fridge at the speed of light.

Coraline first noticed the large, leather case once the fridge was open. It sat in the middle of the rows, amongst the trays of cubes. "What do you think it is?" Gallant asked, causing Coraline to shrug. With gentle hands, she pried the case open, just the slightest bit, and her eyes began to bug out of her skull.

The two froze in place upon seeing the case filled to the brink with red delicious apples, all placed neatly in precise spots. Memories of apples dripping with sweet poison and vomit littering the floor echoed across Coraline's vision, dancing and taunting her. She couldn't even hear Gallant speaking to her as she was reminded of his corpse in the vision, clutching a half-eaten apple in his hand.  _They are the forbidden fruit, Cora,_ her mother once said.  _We do not eat apples in this house, just as God did not want Adam and Eve to_.

Coraline quickly slammed the case shut, confusion etched across her face. How did these apples even survive the blast? What were they being used for? They had to be connected to her vision, but  _why_?

These questions stayed with her into the next day. Coraline dreamt of apples and imagined if they still tasted as delectable as she remembered. She wondered if the apples were going to be their dinner for that night, but she was sadly mistaken. Both Coraline and Gallant shared a defeated look when Mallory placed a cube in front of them.

"Another day, another cube," Coco frowned, slicing into the gelatin with her silver fork. Coraline did the same, and noticed how her tongue was suddenly numb to the taste of this meal now. She watched Coco gesture to the seat on Coraline's left with her chin. "Least we don't have the old bat anymore, talking about the old days."

"Silence," Venable ordered as she made her way into the room. Her cane clicked and clacked against the floorboards, keeping her steady as she took the seat at the head of the table. The fire crackled to life behind her.

Gallant acted like he didn't hear Coco, but Coraline couldn't forget it. Neither could the rest of the survivors as they sent Coco a grim look. She didn't seem affected by it though.

Coraline turned her head to the side, eyeing the chair on her left. The seat had once belonged to Evie Gallant. Coco was right in  _some_ aspects. Evie could be annoying as she rambled on about her upbringing, and the way she treated Gallant was like shit, but something about her death set in the idea that real Apocalypse was coming. She may have gotten close to Michael over the month, but ... who knows if she'd  _ever_ be safe.

She wanted to believe he cared about. She  _really_ did. But she didn't know for sure. The bonding ceremony sealed them, but once the world was rebuilt, would he cast her away the same way she abandoned him at the Winter Ball?

As if on cue, a pair of large shoes entered the dining room. Coraline continued to chew on the last of her cube, until a perfume entered her nose. The scent of roses circulated amongst the room, making her eyes go wide. She looked up, noticing that everyone had been doing the same before her, and glanced to a figure lingering by the doorframe of the dining hall.

Michael grinned big towards Ms. Venable, whose lip was now curling in disgust. "What are  _you_ doing here?" She asked. "Shouldn't you be doing more  _important things_? Like making the selections that you so quickly promised us?"

"My presence here is beneficial to making those selections, Ms. Venable," he sneered, viewing towards the perplexed survivors sitting at the table. His stare finally landed on Coraline, but only for a second, and she noticed mischief dancing within those blue eyes.

Ms. Mead appeared from the kitchens with the Fist. She quickly walked over to the empty chair near Coraline and said, "Please, sit, sir."

Michael nodded, "With pleasure." His stare never left Venable's as he explained, "I've decided to attend this dinner to welcome myself to all of you in this kind of setting. This is how life will be at the Sanctuary with me and the other Cooperative members, after all."

 _No_ ,  _no_ ,  _no_ , Coraline begged in her head.  _Do not put him next to me_.  _This is going to look so suspicious. People will know_ –

She felt his hand brush across the top of her chair, causing her to swallow hard. Ms. Mead pulled the seat out for him, and then he was sitting on Coraline's left, heat radiating off him like a furnace. It made her mouth go dry instantly. The threads were floating in the air, pleading for his touch, but that just  _couldn't be done_. They were with  _people_ , but the bond was making her mind go crazy, and the second Michael looked at her, all she wanted was to grab his hand and put it in places not appropriate for this public setting.

He knew what he was doing – oh,  _God_ , did he know what he was doing. Coraline didn't know how long they were staring at each other, with his twisted smirk and her angry eyes, but she instantly recognized the weird game he was playing. However, she didn't know if the outcome was to make her go insane or to simply scare the other survivors at the table. She guessed it was a little bit of both.

Mallory walked over to place a large plate with nothing but a cube in front of him, but as she leaned down, Michael waved her away with his hand. "Not needed," he muttered, glancing to Mallory longer than normal. It made Coraline's brow lift.

"Seeing as you're here,  _Langdon_ ," Coco drawled, trying to maintain a sultry voice. Coraline thought it sounded like she was in pain, rather than sultry. "When  _will_ those selections be done? It has been  _quite_ a while."

Michael took a moment to respond, but not because he needed to figure out an answer. He was staring at Coco and wondering why she as currently biting the edge of her fingernail in a sensual way. The whole table stared at Coco with confusion, but Coraline remained unphased. Actually, she found it to be funny. Coco knew that she had never fucked Michael, but was still trying to otherwise. Coraline had to admit, her desperation to get into the Sanctuary was  _invigorating_.

"Just a few more days," Michael replied, glancing to every survivor at the table. "I stand by my promise this time. My decision will be made on the first of November."

 _November first_? Coraline hadn't noticed how fast time was now flying by. She began to forget about months and days once she settled into the Outpost. If November started in a few days, that meant Halloween was right around the corner. Coraline hadn't celebrated a proper Halloween since high school. It almost made her sad.

But that sadness immediately vanished once she felt Michael's hand on her thigh.

Coraline froze, eyes growing wide as they swung in two different directions. She looked to see if anyone noticed her fixed posture, or the way she softly dropped her fork. But no one did. Everyone continued to eat their cubes. Venable's frown stayed in place as she tapped clawed fingers on her cane. His hand met her leg underneath the table, hidden away by the violet tablecloth, but  _still_. Coraline didn't look normal in that moment – her mouth was slightly open – and not a soul noticed.

She felt his fingers rub circles into the fabric of her dress, but he knew how high his hand was placed on her leg. Both of them stared ahead, not daring to look at each other. Michael smirked slightly, glancing at her shock from the corner of his eye. Her expression had never been more hilarious.

Then, his hand inched to the right, moving towards her inner thigh. His fingers dipped down to the area in between and grabbed her leg. Coraline could feel the electric bond radiate through the fabric of her dress, almost burning a hole through it, as if she could just  _feel_ his heated skin on her own. His grip was rough and stagnant, hardly moving as his digits began to stroke her thigh.

Coraline wouldn't  _dare_ let a moan fall from her lips. She would absolutely die right there, and then everyone would know their secret too. Coraline finally turned his way, licking her lips when she noticed the sick grin on his face. She wanted to leave the room right then and fuck him in the next room. She wanted to do so many things she couldn't at that moment, but the way he looked at her reminded her of the adolescent boy she once knew. A sense of care and passion in his eyes resurfaced, and she couldn't stop staring.

Despite wanting his fingers to continue, Coraline did something she hadn't expected. She grabbed his hand, resting it on top of her leg, before entwining their fingers together. The only time they ever laced hands like this was when they had sex, and for once, it felt good to simply hold his hand, as if they were teenagers again. Coraline glanced away and looked ahead, unaware of Michael's perplexed expression. Regardless, he continued to squeeze his hand around her own, rubbing circles into her palm.

She was reminded of their first kiss in her bedroom. The way he didn't know how to kiss her and struggled where to put his hands. She was reminded of their first date, where he had killed a man harassing them just to keep her safe. His arm around her shoulders that night had never been so secure and inviting. She was reminded of the times when they would walk together down the street, hand in hand and listening to the playlist she made him. One headphone would be in her ear and the other was placed in his. Anytime she held his hand back then, she felt sheltered. Michael had scared her once, but he never stopped keeping her safe, not even when she abandoned him.

Coraline knew that the bonding ceremony sent their sinful desires to an all-time high, but at that moment, his touch had never felt so innocent.

#####  **__________________________**

Coraline set the rest of the dinner plates on top of the kitchen counter. The plates hardly had a scratch or stain on them, but Mallory still needed to wash them by hand every night. It was one of her solo jobs as a Grey. Sometimes Coraline wondered why Mallory was considered a Grey. She was Coco's assistant, and from what the blonde had said, Mallory came with her. Coraline thought it was wrong that she was treated as a low-class worker, when that clearly wasn't the case in her past life.

"Thanks for helping me, Coraline," Mallory huffed. "I try to stack those plates every night and almost always break them all. I wish I had one of the other servants to help me, but ..." She shrugged, beginning to fill the sink with soapy water.

"It was no problem," Coraline replied, leaning against the counter and watching Mallory grab one of the dirty plates.

Her fingers started to tap against the marble counter, which caused Mallory to jump for a moment. The plate almost slipped from her grasp. Coraline's brow shot up, wondering if Mallory had been on edge lately. Honestly, they all had. Waiting for the selections to be announced caused immense anxiety amongst the survivors.

"Have you had an interview yet, Mallory?" Coraline then asked. "Well, you must have, since Langdon's decisions will be coming in a few short days."

Mallory chewed on her bottom lip. "Um ... yes. Two, actually. Two interviews." She quickly glanced over to the brunette on her right. "How many have you had?"

Coraline rested her elbows on the counter, trying to remain as calm as possible. "Just two," she finally answered.

The sound of running water filled the room. Coraline didn't know what to say next, and neither did Mallory. The Grey's hands shook as she scrubbed at the plate in her hands, smothering it with soap. Coraline supposed that might be her cue to leave. It was approaching the time that she'd usually see Michael anyways.

With a sigh, Coraline tapped her hands on the lip of the kitchen counter and said, "Well, if you don't need me anymore, I'll just –"

"Do you think that you'll get into the Sanctuary?"

Coraline was taken aback by the question, brow raising in confusion. She noticed the water wasn't running anymore, and Mallory's head had snapped in her direction. Coraline played with her fingers, while Mallory's soapy hands fell limp at her sides, allowing water to drip on the floor.

"I – well ..." The brunette's mouth twisted, pausing as she conjured a proper response. "I don't know." She wasn't sure if she told a lie or not. For all she knew, Coraline could be mistaking the care in Michael's eyes for murder, and he could suddenly decide that he didn't need her anymore. A part of her heart hoped that wasn't the case. She didn't know if that was her true feelings or their bond speaking for her.

"I think you will," Mallory muttered with a soft smile. "I know that Coco used to say that you don't belong here, and that she's the only one getting into the Sanctuary, but deep down, she knows she's wrong. I've known her long enough to see that." She placed a clean dish in the silver rack beside the sink, sighing heavily.

The brunette waved away the subject with her hand. "It's okay –"

"I've also seen the way Langdon looks at you sometimes," she continued in a low voice, meeting Coraline's eyes. "He seems ... like he likes you." Mallory then shook her head. "I don't know. I could just be reading way too into this, but ... just be careful, okay?"

Coraline's breath hitched her throat, but she still managed a fake smile and nodded eagerly. That was exactly what she  _didn't_ want to hear.


	31. ALL HALLOWS EVE

#### ACT II: STRANGERS

##### CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

#####  **__________________________**

**CORALINE**  could hardly get an angry word out as soon as she saw Michael that night. He grabbed her by the waist the second she entered the room, pressing her against the wall and allowing his tongue to invade her mouth. This was what she had been waiting for since dinner time, but that didn't mean she wasn't still furious at his actions in the first place. Mallory was suddenly on their tail, and luckily, she was the  _only_  one. The last thing Coraline needed was people finding out  _she_ was the one leaving stains on the Cooperative leader's pants. They all might kill her as a group if they were to find out.

As Michael hiked up her long skirt, Coraline felt the fury coaxed through her veins. However, the words fell dead on her lips when she felt one of his hands yank down her stockings and slip inside of her, while the other dug into her hips. Coraline rocked against his fingers, feeling the threads wrap around them like a butterfly's cocoon. She wrapped her legs around his, and he allowed her to lift herself up more, pressing her spine against the wall hard. She kissed him roughly, mouth lingering across his cheeks. Coraline's thighs wrapped around his torso as he fucked her with his fingers, trying to make her forget about his actions at dinner. But she couldn't forget. She  _wouldn't_  forget.

"You ..." She sucked in a loud breath, pushing her hips forward. Coraline was unraveling, and as much as she wanted to slap him for almost revealing their secret relationship, what she wanted more was to feel him deeper inside of her. "You did a  _bad thing_."

Michael smirked, watching her mouth open wide in pleasure. "Did I?" He asked in a joking tone, like he knew  _exactly_ why she was mad. His fingers curled and hit the spot that only he knew about. He could almost hear the bond whispering in his ear – or was it his Father? – telling him her exact spots, the places that made her weak in the knees. It would always be him who knew her like no one else.

Coraline bit her bottom lip to suppress a moan, but it ended up releasing the second she opened her mouth to reply, "You shouldn't have done that." She swallowed hard, smothering her body onto his. She felt his finger drive deeper into her as he entered a third. Her breath hitched suddenly. "You – you could've fucked everything up."

"But I didn't."

"But you  _did_ ," Coraline replied quickly, grinding her teeth together. She pushed forward, rocking herself back forth, thighs slick. His fingers circled inside of her, causing the most unholiest of moans to fall from her lips. It was like music to his ears, just to know that  _he_ was the cause of those sounds.

He didn't even flinch when she breathed, "Mallory is suspicious."

"Is she?" Michael inquired, leaning his head into her neck and biting. His voice wasn't angry, nor was it suspicious. He enjoyed the sight of her angry while he pleasured her. Coraline almost moaned his name –  _almost_ , not yet. Michael's fingers curled again, and he finally got that name call.

"Yes," Coraline said, reaching her climax. She was ready to combust, and she knew he would lick his fingers clean, which would make her want to start all over again. "I swear to  _God_ , Michael, if you fuck this up –" Another moan as he bit underneath her chin. "If –  _fuck_ , if they all find out, they'll kill –"

She could practically  _feel_  the grin on his face as he quipped, "Then, they won't find out." He lifted his head, meeting her eyes and pausing his fingers for a short moment. Coraline's core was going to implode any second now. "This could be the most exciting game we've ever played,  _Coraline Rose_."

#####  **__________________________**

When Ms. Venable called an emergency an emergency meeting, Coraline knew it couldn't be good. The survivors hastily gathered into the library, along with a few Greys. Coraline stood behind Gallant and took notice to the way Timothy and Emily were openly holding each other. They must've been caught fornicating recently, but were let off easy. Coraline bit the edge of her fingernail. Why were they let off the hook and Gallant wasn't?

She looked towards her friend. Coraline caught Gallant's eye for a moment and watched him turn away. He rolled his eyes, spinning to face Venable and Ms. Mead once they walked into the room, dressed in all black. Coraline noticed over the past couple of days that Gallant had been giving her the cold shoulder. She thought it might've been due to Evie's death, but now she wasn't so sure. If he had some kind of problem, then he could always just tell her. They were  _friends_ after all. But she hadn't done anything,  _in particular_ , to upset him lately, so his attitude didn't add up.

"These past several months have been difficult for all of us," Venable began, shaking Coraline out of her trance. "And ... perhaps, in my efforts to keep us safe, punitive measures have been taken too far. I believe now what we need is a moment of celebration."

Coraline's back straightened. Her expression twisted as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Which is why this weekend, as a gesture of goodwill," Venable's lips curled manically, "we will have a Halloween soiree. In the style of a Victorian masquerade ball. Attendance is mandatory."

Now, that  _definitely_ made her suspicious. Coraline thought she had gotten to know Venable quite well over the years she'd been at the Outpost. Ms. Venable wouldn't be holding a celebration if there wasn't something in it for her, and Coraline didn't even think this had to do with getting into the Sanctuary anymore.

Venable encouraged everyone to use their imaginations and create exquisite costumes, but Coraline didn't have a seamstress bone in her body. She went with a dark purple dress already within her closet, except she ripped the black sheer fabric off the waist and decided to use it as a mask. The only way she'd be able to truly dress up herself was with her hair, even though it was shorter than most.

Regardless of Gallant's hidden spite towards her, he still agreed to style Coraline's hair. He practically had a whole hairdressing studio in his room, but he had to make do with what he had at the Outpost. With careful hands, he rubbed a few products into her dark brown strands, making them appear curlier than usual. He pulled the hair upward, creating a wave at the top of her head. She was so used to wearing her hair down that seeing it so high up was a shock. Turning her head from side to side, she grinned gratefully.

"Don't move too much," Gallant chastised, standing in front of her and pulling out a few curls to frame her face.

Coraline stuck out her tongue, but still smiled. "Thanks, Gallant. You didn't have to –"

"Mhmm," the blonde-haired male muttered, plucking out a piece of hair by accident.

She immediately yelped. "Ow! What the  _fuck_  –"

Gallant shrugged, moving to the back of her head again. "Oops," he sighed, "sorry."

Coraline watched his face contort into annoyance. She raised a brow. "Why are you acting like  _that_?" She asked, tone seeping with malice. "Do you think I don't notice you rolling your eyes at me? You've been so snippy lately –"

"Oh, c'mon, Coraline, don't play dumb," he replied, fiddling with a few loose strands. "I can smell  _him_ off of you."

Coraline's whole body froze, but just for a second –  _a split second_. This couldn't be happening. Not now. She swallowed hard, "I don't understand –"

Gallant's eyes finally met her own in the mirror, and his hands fell to his sides. "Yes, you do." His tone was defeated. He knew that despite his anger towards her, he couldn't do anything about it. "You smell like roses now."

"It's a common scent."

"I've seen you go to his suite a lot lately. It's right near mine."

She shrugged, even though she knew how guilty she looked. "He wanted to interview me."

"The walls aren't  _soundproof_ , Coraline." He raised his hands, almost trying to tear his hair out. "You're so  _goddamn loud_. You should be lucky I'm the only one who has heard this shit. I don't think I'll be able to use the word, 'sir,' again without cringing." Gallant huffed dramatically. "You're not slick, Coraline.  _You're not_. I see the way he looked at you during dinner. It was all clear then."

Coraline clamped her teeth down on her bottom lip, biting hard. She didn't know how to respond. Was there anything she could  _really_ say?

Gallant walked in front of her again, arching his back to get on her level. His brow was raised, as if he was expecting something from her. "You stole my soulmate. That's against the friend code."

Coraline's mouth dropped. "Are you  _kidding_ me? I've known him  _way_  –" She stopped herself, causing Gallant's brow to furrow. Coraline quickly cleared her throat. "I didn't steal anyone. How was he even your soulmate anyways? You told me the guy in the rubber suit that you fucked wasn't even Langdon."

"Doesn't matter, Cora!" He exclaimed, lifting his hands in the air. "You  _broke_ the friend code."

Coraline exhaled, "I did  _not_ –"

Gallant wagged a finger in her face. "Do you want to get into the Sanctuary  _that_ bad? Is that what this is about?"

"No, I ..." She played with her fingers, turning to look at herself in the mirror. Her lips still looked swollen from the night before, when Michael roamed her mouth like it had a rare taste. "What if he just likes me?"

Her eyes met Gallant's again, and noticed that his anger went away. In fact, he looked  _amused_. A snort emerged from his mouth, which turned into a fit of chuckles. " _Seriously_?" He laughed, making Coraline's stare narrow. Eventually, his giggles ceased, and he held a hand to his chest. "Oh, honey, you  _are_ serious."

"Obviously," Coraline quipped.

Gallant knelt down, frowning in her direction. He patted her leg. "Coraline, dear Coraline," he shook his head, like he was a parent reprimanding her. "I think you better get your head out of the clouds with this one –"

"GUYS!"

The room was suddenly filled with Coco's shrill voice. Coraline closed her eyes for a moment, trying to bask in the moment where Coco's presence  _hadn't_ been there, and finally turned to face her in the doorway of Gallant's room. The hairdresser stood up with his hands on his hips and asked, "Why are you back? Shouldn't you be getting ready?"

"Forget about that. I have a  _theory_ ," Coco giggled, tapping her fingers together in a villainous way. "I've finally figured out why Venable has such a hard-on for this big Halloween celebration."

Gallant and Coraline shared a look.

Coco continued with a huge grin, "What if Halloween is an  _excuse_?" She raised her brow inquisitively. "They're using the party to announce who's going to the Sanctuary!"

Coraline's eyes went wide. For the first time in a while, Coco might've had a point, and that alone was the scariest part. Coraline hoped vomit and bloody apples weren't in their cards for tonight, but she knew that wishing for a miracle was useless. If Coco was right, this soiree wasn't going to end well at all.

#####  **__________________________**

Gallant still wasn't speaking to Coraline come the time of the festivities. She couldn't blame him, honestly. Maybe she  _had_ broken the friend code, but it wasn't like she had a choice in this fate. Yes, Gallant had told her that he was into Michael. He made it very clear. But Michael made the bonding ceremony even clearer, and since then, things became ...  _different_. Rules didn't cross her mind anymore, not even the friend code.

She wondered if Michael was going to be at the party. Coraline hadn't given herself a moment to ask him before the celebration started. If he did end up arriving, Coraline knew he'd have a few tricks up his sleeve. No doubt that he would try torturing her the entire night, trying to make her squirm in front of everyone. Mallory was already suspicious, and Gallant knew exactly what was going on. Luckily, those two knew how to keep their mouths shut. At least, she hoped they did. She couldn't risk anyone else finding out.

Coraline rolled her eyes once Coco made her grand entrance into the library, where the celebration was to be held. She even had Mallory introduce her to the crowd, and then she descended the stairs gracefully. Coraline hadn't let her eyes roll to the back of her head though, because as she adjusted her mask made of black lace, she noticed Ms. Mead entering the library with a cart. The burning fire highlighted each wrinkle on the old woman's face, and Coraline watched her lips curl in a devilish way.

Carefully stepping forward, Coraline peered over Andre's shoulder to see the basin that Ms. Mead was placing in the middle of the room. He tried picking up an object from the water as Dinah appeared at his side. Ms. Mead smacked his hand away and snickered, "No treats until the time comes."

Coraline's eyes went wide when she realized what was in the bowl.

Apples. All red delicious apples.

Her head snapped up, and she caught Gallant's stare from across the room. He didn't look angry anymore. In fact, he shared the same confused expression Coraline did. Dinah went on about how they should thank the universe for bringing them fresh fruit, but Coraline didn't hear her. Memories of half-eaten apples and blood danced across her eyes.  _This can't be it_ , she thought to herself,  _not before Michael hasn't announced who's going to the Sanctuary_.  _Why couldn't fate wait?_

Coraline's thoughts were interrupted once Venable's cane echoed down the hall. She stood at the entrance of the library, a huge grin plastered on her face. "Tonight is All Hallows Eve," she announced, "which marks the beginning of the dark half of the year. When the boundary of this world and the other thins, and lost souls pierce the firmament, desperate to find their way home. It is a night to remember the dead, and there have been  _far_ too many to mourn."

She frowned for a moment, and then her dark lips coiled again. "But also to celebrate that we have left to join them." Stepping forward, Venable began to circle the bookcases lining the library. "We delight in the small things that were once taken for granted – to eat, to drink, music, dance. Everyone – and I mean,  _everyone_ – should savor this night as if it were their last."

With a light flip of the switch, Venable turned on the stereo, allowing  _Baby I'm-A Want You_ by Bread to play. Coraline's red flags were going off the charts. She met Ms. Mead's stare from across the room, and she instantly wound her arms around her bare shoulders.

Everyone else had someone to dance with, except for her. Coraline watched Timothy hold Emily close as they swayed, and a part of her wished she had that with Michael. But he wouldn't dance with her anymore. She wasn't even sure if he had feelings for her. (He  _had_  to, right?) Something swelled in her chest, and Coraline was afraid to ask herself what it was.

One thing was for sure, she needed to get out of the library and find Michael. Coraline decided it was best for him to be there, in case something awful happened. Or maybe she just wanted to ask if he would dance with her in his suite before they went downstairs. It would be nice – feeling his arms around her again, but not out of lust. That was probably just wishful thinking.

The perfect opportunity arose once Venable and Ms. Mead turned their backs to instruct a few Greys. With precision, Coraline stepped out of the library and sprinted down the hall. She paused at the staircase, lifting her skirt and running up each creaky step. Coraline didn't take a moment to hesitate before she was banging her fist on Michael's door, shoving herself through.

He was sitting at his desk, typing away on the laptop that still perplexed her. Upon hearing her slam the door shut, he stood, as if he were expecting her, and grinned big. Coraline tore off her makeshift mask as he strode over. "Michael," she said, almost breathless, "you need to come downstairs –"

His lips engulfed hers instantly, pulling her close by the small of her waist. Michael ran his hands through her hair, completely messing up the styling that Gallant did. He towered over her as their mouths devoured each other, tongues tangling in a heated mess. Coraline forgot why she came up there for a moment. Time seemed to still. All she wanted was to stay there in that moment, feeling his hands rub circles into her back and allowing their electric bond to melt them together – but now was not that time.

Coraline leaned away, rubbing at her mouth. Michael smiled at the sight of her swollen lips. "Why aren't you at the celebration?" She asked as his arms slipped away from hers. "You should be down there. I think –"

"I didn't want to go," he replied. His eyes never left her own as he lowered himself to his knees. Michael's arms slid down from her waist, all the way to her knees, where he gripped the fabric of her dress vigorously. He watched her eyes darken as he leaned into her stomach and dug his hands into her hips. "You should stay here. With me. There's no reason for you to be down there."

Coraline's stomach churned as he kissed the fabric covering her waistline. His mouth was so close to diving in between her legs, and she desperately wanted to pull her skirt up and let him kiss her there. But again –  _not the time_.

"I was actually busy making my selections," he said in between kisses, "but I think I could put in some time to run the bath –"

"No."

The reply was shocking even to Coraline. She paused, unsure if that had really been  _her_ voice. Looking down, she watched Michael's head lift. He was stunned for a moment, hardly moving from his spot.

"I didn't mean for it to come out that way," Coraline continued, rubbing a hand over her eyes. She moved her stare away from his, afraid that his eyes might distract her. "I ... I need to know something."

Michael quickly brought himself to his feet. When he noticed that Coraline still refused to meet his eyes, he reached out and moved her chin towards him. He watched her lips purse.

"Are we ..." She gestured with her hands, pointing from him to her, and then she paused. Her hands fell to her hips. "Are yousuggesting that we have sex all the time because of the bond, or ..." She swallowed hard. "Or do you  _actually_  have feelings for me?"

He didn't answer. Michael simply tilted his head to the side, eyeing her with confusion, or was it suspicion? She couldn't decide which. Whatever it was, his gaze was making her throat close up. She was afraid she said too much; she was afraid that maybe it had been wrong to ask that. There were more important things to worry about, after all. Like the massacre being planned downstairs.

" _Well_ ," she continued, malice laced in her tone, "are you going to  _answer_  me?"

Michael took one step forward, causing her back to hit the wall once again. Blue bore into grey as he narrowed his stare. "What are you  _really_ trying to ask, Coraline?"

She frowned, sighing heavily through her nostrils. "I just  _asked_ you what I wanted to know. Now, can you answer to save me from the –"

" _Wait_ ," he interrupted with a shake of his head. "The question you're truly asking is if I'm in love with you again,  _isn't it_?"

Coraline's hands bunched around the fabric of her skirt and they shook uncontrollably. She froze for a split second, penetrated by his gaze. His words repeated over and over again in her head.

 _He had been in love with her when they were younger_.

Michael lifted a brow, waiting for an answer, but it took her a moment to finally repeat, " _Again_?"

He licked his bottom lip, eyes traveling down her face, remembering when his younger self used to like to count the freckles on her cheeks. Michael liked to believe that that part of himself was gone now. It vanished after he accepted his official title years ago, after he left her. Was the Antichrist allowed to save the people he cared about from their fate? Was he even allowed  _to care_ for other people, or was that against his Father's judgment? Each time Coraline looked at him, each time his hands caressed her skin – Michael believed that maybe he could care, that a part of his soul really wasn't lost.

"Young boys fall quickly," he finally replied, resuming his icy expression. "But fall out even quicker when they're abandoned."

Coraline didn't want to cry. Not now, not in front of him. But tears were forming below her lash line, and her heart was breaking as soon as he said those words. She sucked in a sob, trying her best to hide her guilt, but it was so obvious. Michael lifted his chin and watched her face soften. They both usually held such cold demeanors; it was odd to see one of them finally break. Michael had to fight the urge to rub the tear that glided down her cheek, but now wasn't the time for this kind of talk. After his selections, he would talk with her. He would bear that lost part of his soul to her finally.

Michael carefully stepped away, causing Coraline's arm to shoot out. Her skin burned against his as she said, "Michael, wait –"

Whatever she had planned to say vanished instantly. The door to his suite was opening, and two figures with cruel expressions emerged from the dark hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are approaching,,,,,,,,,,,The End™
> 
> But do not fret!!!!! Like I said before, no Range Rovers, no bullshit. The ending is kinda ambiguous, but one I'm really happy with, especially for Coraline's character development. I have a feeling you guys will be happy with it!!! (At least I hope so lol)
> 
> Next chapter is definitely up there in my favorites!!!


	32. THE FULL TRUTH

#### ACT II: STRANGERS

##### CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

#####  **__________________________**

**MICHAEL**  immediately shoved Coraline behind his back as the door swung open. She tried to push her way past him, but the bond made him stronger, and him simply holding his arm in front of her felt like she was ramming her whole body into a brick wall. Coraline quickly fixed the top of her dress when she recognized the two women entering the suite, knowing that from the looks of their faces, this could mean nothing but trouble.

Venable walked in carefully, allowing her cane to guide her. Ms. Mead, of course, was trailing behind her, lips pulled into a wicked grin. Coraline realized she couldn't hear any music coming from downstairs, nor did she hear the happy shouts of partying survivors. It was quiet –  _too quiet_.

"Ladies," Michael sneered, recovering from their surprise visit, "I'm a little busy right now."

Venable hummed, "This won't take long." Ever so slowly, her eyes slid to Coraline's, hiding beneath Michael's towering form. Venable's brows knitted together when she noticed the protective arm he had in front of the brunette woman. "Coraline Avery," she called, mouth contorting into a frown, "why didn't you stay for ... for the festivities? You missed our little treat."

Coraline knew then that she had been right. Could she have prevented it?  _Maybe_ , but the future is hard to reverse, and fate wants things to stay in place. If she hadn't gotten so distracted ... maybe she could've saved someone –  _anyone_. Maybe she could've saved Gallant, or Mallory. The quietness coming from downstairs became deafening. She refused to go down there now; she refused to see the mess of apples and bloody vomit that she wanted to counteract.

Eventually, Coraline cleared her throat, glancing to Michael for a moment, before turning back to Venable. "Langdon wanted to see me," she replied. "He ... wanted to congratulate me on being selected for the Sanctuary."

From the corner of her eye, she saw Michael rub at the bridge of his nose and sigh heavily. Both Venable and Ms. Mead's expressions became muddled. Michael finally turned back to the two women with a huge smirk.

"Miss Avery is lying," he stated proudly, making Coraline's eyes grow wide. "She has been coming to my suite every night for weeks now. We have been engaged in copulation." Michael clicked his tongue and paused between his next few words, "Every. Damn. Night."

Coraline gripped his arm tightly, mouth twisting into a tight frown. "Michael,  _stop it_  –"

Venable was shaking with anger. She hadn't even noticed Coraline's slip of Michael's real name. Venable was too distracted by her own rage. Her whole body vibrated, and not even Ms. Mead's hand on her shoulder could help contain her fury. "Mr. Langdon," she spoke with gritted teeth, "is this your admittance to seducing one of  _my_  survivors?"

" _You_  do not  _own_ the inhabitants of this Outpost, Ms. Venable," Michael spat. "You have tried time and time again to make this place over in  _your_ image, when that was not in your place to do.  _Especially_ , when you thought that no one who knew any better would ever be around to notice these new rules. You were to follow the directives  _I_ drafted."

Ms. Venable launched forward, standing just a foot from Michael. She could easily use her cane to beat him senseless, but she needed it to stand. Her eyes blazed and she found it difficult to breathe properly through her nose. "I should slice _both_ your throats for going behind my back," she fumed, eye twitching. "This is  _my_ Outpost."

Michael raised one brow and shook his head in mock pity. "You don't have that kind of authority."

Venable chuckled darkly. "Oh, I do, Mr. Langdon."

"So, what's your plan then?" Coraline spoke up again, moving slightly to the right so she could stand beside Michael, instead of being sheltered behind him. She wasn't afraid of Venable, or even her accomplice. This Ms. Mead had nothing on the real thing. "Are you going to kill us for breaking rules that shouldn't have existed in the first place? Sounds a bit far-fetched if you ask me."

"In a way," Venable replied, sharing a look with Ms. Mead, "because we're making the selections now, and I'm afraid you  _both_ didn't make the cut."

Coraline's stare narrowed, while Michael actually seemed amused. He released a chuckle at Ms. Venable's expense. She didn't look to be phased by it, though, lips staying in a devilish grin.

"I'm sorry," Michael exhaled, holding a hand to his chest. "I wanted to let you have your moment, but I just couldn't hold it in."

"You think this is  _funny_?" Venable scoffed.

Michael glanced to Coraline for a moment, and she was completely perplexed by the sneer on his face. "I think I'm  _impressed_ , Ms. Venable. I wasn't sure you had it in you."

Coraline looked from Michael to Venable's confident expression. " _Where_  are you going with this?" She muttered.

He raised his hand and shushed her with one pointed finger. "You've passed the test," Michael continued, turning back to Ms. Venable. "You're perfect for the Sanctuary."

The answer hadn't even stunned her. Venable's grin vanished, replaced by a stern darkness in her already black eyes. With hands clasped in front of her, she called, "Ms. Mead."

Coraline's stare shifted to the woman in question, watching Ms. Mead flip the safety off of a handgun and point it in their direction. "What the  _fuck_  –" Coraline shouted, suddenly kept back by Michael's arm again. This time, she curled her hands around it, eyes growing wide at the sight of a gun aimed right for her skull.

"I wouldn't do that," Michael warned.

That only heightened Venable's conviction. However, she soon realized that her partner wasn't doing anything. Bullets didn't fly. Hearts didn't stop. " _Ms. Mead_ ," she called again, stronger this time.

Michael was staring at the older women, lifting a brow. Ms. Mead was frozen in place, staring at Michael's pleased expression, as Venable spun to look at her confidant.

And then Ms. Mead's hand started to move, as if she had no control over it. Her eyes remained on Michael, yet the gun in her hand slowly advanced to point at Ms. Venable. Without a second thought, she fired the weapon, right into Venable's chest. The Outpost leader fell to the hardwood floor, blood spilling from her chest.

Michael's lips curled, while Coraline didn't know what to think. Her eyes went immediately to Venable gasping for air on the ground, trying to tear at her chest to extract the bullet, but it was in too deep. Coraline knew Michael was powerful, but ... had the bond also made him able to switch the decisions of others in a split second? She didn't doubt it.

Ms. Mead trembled at the sight before her. "I don't know why I did that!"

"Neither do I," Coraline remarked, watching Ms. Venable quickly lose her will to live. Air was escaping her; death was imminent.

Michael abandoned his protective wall in front of Coraline to kneel by Venable's still body. "It's alright," he cooed, as if the woman didn't just murder the only person she had been loyal to. "You were obeying commands, like you're programmed to do.  _My commands_."

Coraline's brow raised.  _So he hadn't been lying about the whole robot thing_ , she thought to herself.  _Stranger things have happened, I guess_.

_Yeah, like fucking your ex from high school, who turned out to be the Antichrist_ , her conscious barked back.

Michael quickly stood to his feet, smiling softly in Ms. Mead's direction. "Did you enjoy executing the poison apples plan, as much as I enjoyed coming up with it?" He then gestured to Coraline. "With the help of our prophet predicting it, of course."

"You  _what_?" Coraline stepped in front of him. She was extremely close to stepping over Venable's corpse. "How –  _why_  didn't you tell me? You programmed that poison apple plan after my vision? Those were  _innocent people_  –"

"They all wanted you  _dead_ , Coraline," Michael answered quickly. He placed a hand on her elbow, hoping that she would understand that this was the  _only way_ ; that this wasn't a repeat of his mistake at the Winter Ball. No –  _this_  had a purpose. "Gallant told both Coco and Andre about us before the Halloween celebration started. They were trying to come up with a plan to kill you so you wouldn't get into the Sanctuary."

Coraline blinked quietly. Her and Gallant were ...  _friends_. At least, she thought they were. Him finding out about her relationship with Michael must've really pissed him off. She did break the friend code, after all. She didn't want to believe Michael's words, but he never lied. She could see it in his eyes. It was true –  _all of it_.

"You ..." Ms. Mead stuttered, shaking her head as tears sprang from her eyes. Both Coraline and Michael swung their heads in her direction. "You wanted everyone  _dead_?"

"It's what needed to be done," he replied simply. "I've never been a fan of getting my hands dirty. I learned that from my Father." Michael then gripped Coraline's hands, causing her to step forward. She nudged close to his side and relished in the warmth he exuded. "Always more fun to entice men and women to dirty deeds. Confirms what I've always believed."

Ms. Mead's mouth trembled. "W – What do you  _b_ – _believe_?"

"That all people, if given the right pressures or stimulus," his voice grew to a hiss in Coraline's ear, "are evil motherfuckers."

"I'm having trouble with this," Ms. Mead admitted. Her sobs became quieter, and she was suddenly no longer shaking. "I know, I'm just a machine –"

Michael shook his head. "Never say that," he interrupted, concern echoing in his tone. Coraline pursed her lips as she looked at him, realizing how much he cared for this replica, as if she was the real Ms. Mead.

Maybe the boy she knew was still in there.

"You're not just a machine," Michael whispered. "Not to me. When I tasked the Cooperative's RND department to have you constructed, I gave them a prototype to model. Someone from my childhood. Someone very dear to me. A person I couldn't live without."

Realization dawned on Ms. Mead's face. The tears on her cheeks dried, and her eyes lit up. She remembered a beautiful blonde boy, with curls the color of sunshine, and a power that could create miracles.  _This_ was that boy, standing before her, and he loved her for the machine she was.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," he continued, walking forward with his hand laced with Coraline's. "But I had to keep the most important part of you hidden from your mind to protect you, and the plan. So me, you, and Coraline, along with my Father, could start over. We can rebuild the world from the ground up –  _together_. Like how it was prophesied."

Ms. Mead's stare reverted to Coraline, who slowly lifted her chin towards the older woman. It was then that Mead realized why Coraline had looked familiar when they first met. The woman she was modeled after knew Coraline – quite well, she assumed.

She walked forward then, a huge grin covering her face, as she wrapped her arms around Michael. His hand slipped from Coraline's so he could hug the older woman, and she felt almost like the real thing. He needed her by his side. He always would. At that moment, Michael was grateful that he was able to care for powerful women.

He leaned away, but kept his hands on Ms. Mead's shoulder. A proud smile graced his lips, and he carefully smoothed out the wrinkles in her jacket. "Ms. Mead," he said elegantly, "would you mind giving Coraline and I a moment?"

"Of course," she nodded, grinning from ear to ear. Ms. Mead patted his hands one last time before nearing the doorway. "I'll be right outside."

Michael bobbed his head in agreement, turning to face Coraline once the door was shut. She stared at him with concern, unsure if she should move closer or stay in the same spot. His eyes were cold again, yet she knew that was far from what he felt on the inside. His moment with Ms. Mead proved that.

"You really love her," Coraline whispered. Her lips parted as she paused for a moment. "You loved her enough to bring her back in any way possible. I've noticed that you tend to do that – you know, bringing back the people you care for."

Michael stayed quiet. Coraline was surprised that he didn't have a cynical response to fire back, but he simply looked to his shoes. Coraline didn't want to say too much then. She tried to suppress the emotion bubbling in her stomach, but it was too powerful. Not even her newfound strength from the bond could stop it.

A sniffle emerged from her nose. Her throat clogged with words she knew it wasn't the time to say. Tears welled up in her eyes as she finally professed, "I'm ... I'm so sorry, Michael."

His stare lifted again. Coraline stepped forward, just a few inches from him, watching his icy expression soften when he noticed the haze in her grey eyes. "I shouldn't have abandoned you when we were younger," she murmured, shaking her head in shame. "I know ... I know I acted cruelly when I said that months ago. I know I told you to get over it, but ...  _fuck_ , I'm so sorry. I hurt you. I left you when –" She bit her lip, sucking in a loud sob. "I left you when you asked me to stay; when you said that you were afraid of hurting me. I'll never stop regretting that –  _ever_."

Slowly, he raised his hand and rubbed the tears coating her freckled cheeks. That alone told Coraline that he understood; that the old him was still in there.

She grabbed his hand that laid on her cheek, lacing their fingers together. Her hands were still small, and they would always fit perfectly in his palm. "I want to help you," she muttered. "I want to be with you to rebuild the world. I don't know what I can do, but I want to stay here,  _with you_ , for as long as I can."

He licked his lips and his thumb caressed the tear gliding underneath her eye. "I lied to you all those weeks ago," he whispered, refusing to meet her stare. "When I said that finding you after the ball wasn't on my to-do list. I never lie, but in that moment ... I feared in revealing the truth to you."

Coraline squeezed his hand, urging him to continue.

"I frequently went back to find you over the past four years," Michael admitted. "It wasn't hard. You stayed in the same spot – happy, living your life as if I never existed. And that ... that made me so  _angry_ , because you influenced my life so much and it didn't seem the same when I found you again.

"I ..." He paused, almost  _afraid_ to continue. Coraline hadn't seen that kind of fear on his face in a long while. "I planned to kill you so many times. I imagined different ways I could do it – some being more painful than others. But I never could. The thought of a new world without Coraline Avery seemed crueler than anything I could've done."

Coraline swallowed hard. She didn't know how she could answer to a confession like that.

"I even used to have hallucinations that you were there with me," he said, chuckling for a mere moment. His tone was still sad, though. "I spent four days in the woods once, trying to contact my Father. I became delusional as my hunger got worse, and I saw you several times, walking through the wilderness, torturing me with your presence. You've always been more spiteful than me sometimes."

He leaned his forehead on hers then, closing his eyes as memories resurfaced. The bond connected them at that moment, and Coraline instantly saw his recollections in her head. She saw him in the woods. She saw him rocking back and forth, talking to the wind. She saw flashes of herself in his eyes. Coraline gasped, tightening her grip on his hand.

"I lost you and I couldn't bear it," he said, brushing his lips across her own. "I can't imagine a new world without you by my side. The only person who ever understood me, who loved me for me."

Coraline's mouth trembled as she opened her eyes, realizing that his stare had been burning into her the entire time. "I'm not leaving anytime soon," she whispered, grabbing his face with her small hands and marveling at his warm skin. "I could never leave you again."

His mouth met with hers. For the first time in a while, the kiss was soft, sweet, and caring. It wasn't full of lust or vicious passion, and as much as she liked that, Coraline only wanted to relish in the moment that this was his confession. This was them admitting their flaws, but also that she loved him, and he felt the same for her. The bond linked their lifelines as one, and they would stay that way until the end.

But then the air shifted. Music began to blast from the stereo downstairs.  _She's a Rainbow_ by the Rolling Stones reverberated through the floorboards, causing both Michael and Coraline to break apart. They looked down at the ground, still holding on to each other's faces, when the door opened once again.

Ms. Mead stepped through with an anxious look in her eyes. "We have a problem."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter,,,,,,,RUINED ME!!!!!! But it's one of my favorite chapters :''') I loved writing Michael's cool exterior breaking and him finally admitting his feelings. We out here being soft!!!!!!
> 
> Also, definite song inspo for this chapter is Ocean Eyes by Billie Eilish!


	33. SUPREME BITCH

#### ACT II: STRANGERS

##### CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

#####  **__________________________**

**"WHAT'S**  going  _on_?"

Coraline's question came out through heavy pants. She raced down the hall with Michael, hand in hand, as Ms. Mead followed close behind. The walls around her were becoming a blur; the candle lights looked like she was passing by orange smoke. Coraline swallowed hard as everything felt like it was caving in. Something was wrong –  _very wrong_. This couldn't be happening, whatever it was. Not when she finally got what she wanted.

"There's a powerful presence," Michael answered, beginning to slow his pace. Straightening his jacket, he resumed his normal behavior, his expression growing cold.

Coraline shook her head, tugging on his hand as they came to a halt. Ms. Mead stopped short behind. "Everyone's dead, Michael."

He looked over his shoulder, pulling on their laced hands to guide her forward again. "Not anymore."

Their pace down the stairs was slow, causing nerves to bubble up in Coraline's stomach. She realized what Michael had been feeling then. It was a force she had never noticed before, winding down the halls and filling her nostrils with a scent of sweet sage. Voices echoed across the hall as the stairs curled downward. Some sounded familiar; others were foreign, but they were all female.

"I'm not here to defeat  _anyone_ ," a strangely recognizable voice seethed.

Coraline felt the oxygen leave her body when they stopped fast at the end of the stairs. Seven figures turned at their presence, some looking more powerful than the others. A tall woman with honey-colored hair stood at the head, walking forward to the staircase with a confident look in her eyes. She was accompanied by another younger blonde and an older woman with frizzy, orange locks. Coraline's eyes went wide when they connected with Mallory's – she was  _alive_  and  _well_ , along with Dinah and Coco. How were they alive? Did they come back from the dead?

The scent of sage should've answered all her questions.

Michael cautiously hid Coraline behind him, but that wasn't enough for her. She wrapped her hand around his arm, allowing the bond to seal them together, and peeking her eyes from over his broad shoulder.

"How can any of you defeat me," he sneered, "when I've already won?"

The tall blonde stepped forward, knitting her dark brows together. "You haven't won."

Michael chuckled, "Perhaps you haven't noticed the state of the world."

"It's almost as bad as your dinner jacket," the frizzy-haired ginger boasted, "but at least the world can be  _saved_."

Coraline raised a brow at that comment.

"By  _you_?" Michael continued to tease.

"By  _all of us_ ," the head blonde replied.

Coraline pulled on his jacket, pointing a finger in the direction of the women before them. "Um – care to explain who they are?"

"We're witches, bitch," the young blonde scoffed, stepping forward with her hands on her hips. "And you're little boyfriend is about to be toasted by the Supreme."

Coraline wasn't surprised in the slightest. Most things didn't surprise her anymore. If she was truly the False Prophet bound to the Antichrist, who was she to be skeptical at the presence of witches? She could only assume the tall blonde at the head of the coven was the Supreme, meaning she must be the most powerful out of all. This is yet another instance she wished her visions would warn her about, but maybe these witches were powerful enough to block her third eye.

"Hey, just an FYI –" Coco rubbed at her forehead and stomped to stand beside the Supreme. "Just don't let me die again, okay? That really  _sucked_ the first time."

The Supreme silenced her with a wave of her hand, but Michael was quick to reply, "When I'm done, you'll all wish you were still dead. You're not touching  _any_ of us." His chin lifted, staring down at the witches as Coraline's grip on him became tighter. "The seventh seal has been broken. The bond of the Unholy Trinity has been made. Wormwood has fallen from the sky and turned the rivers to blood and fire. The bottomless pit has been opened and my swarms of locusts and scorpions have ravaged humanity. The world will be remade in my Father's image."

The witches laughed, and the orange-haired elder opened her mouth once again. Coraline was beginning to get tired of her terrible jokes. If she had the same powers as Michael, she would've snapped her neck already.

"Darling, it seems Daddy didn't tell you the most important rule of bringing on the Apocalypse," she mocked, red lips twitching into a grin. "If you want to finish the job, the thing you have to do first is get rid of all the witches."

"I could annihilate all of you in a second and the world would go on without missing a beat," Michael scorned, voice lowering into a dark tone. " _You_  and  _all_  of your work will be forgotten in the rubble of the past."

He stepped forward then, one foot nearing the edge of a step. Coraline's arm slipped away, but his hand still caused her to stay close. She raised a brow, wondering what his exact plan was. "But I want to give you a future. Fall to your knees and accept me as your lord and savior, and I will bring you to the table as my obedient subjects."

Coraline's brow shot up. The Supreme only snickered, hardly moving an inch.

"Imbeciles!" Ms. Mead bellowed. "Fall to your knees before the king!  _Hail Satan_!"

" _Ms. Mead_ ," Coraline seethed, turning her head in the woman's direction, " _stop_  provoking –"

Footsteps entered the hall again. It sounded like heels clicking against the floorboards, and a flash of bright blonde hair glowed under the light of the candles. A tight, black dress clung to her skinny, yet muscular frame, as well as a beautiful cloak covered in midnight glitter. Her eyes were still big and the most vivid blue Coraline had ever seen, lashes forever long and curled to perfection. Coraline stepped forward upon recognizing the grin lifting on her pink lips, and watched as the blonde stood beside her Supreme, one manicured hand on her hip.

"She's right, you know. Provoking won't do anything." Amalia Beaumont spoke harshly to Ms. Mead, smiling from ear to ear. She then spun to face her old friend, expression softening for a moment. "Hi, Coraline."

Coraline instinctively stepped forward, crossing in front of Michael, who stared between the two girls with confusion. She almost didn't want to believe it: Amalia Beaumont survived the fallout  _and_ was a witch too.

" _Amalia_?" The name came out as a hiss from Coraline's mouth, but she felt nothing but shock. The blonde girl wanted to hug her old friend, to hold her in her arms and feel like they were young again. They were both reminded of high school, and Amalia would never forget the day Coraline let her in; the day they  _really_ became friends. Both had never felt more happy to see the other after the Apocalypse.

"Coraline," Michael whispered, causing the brunette to look over her shoulder. "Don't get too close. If you two know each other, the witches might be using her to kill you."

She shook her head, refusing to believe that notion. "Amalia would never do that."

"And  _how_ do you know that, Miss Avery?" The Supreme's voice called out, and Coraline's blood turned cold. She turned to the older woman, brow furrowing in confusion.

Amalia's stare narrowed towards her Supreme. This  _isn't_ what they planned. "I would never hurt Coraline. She's an old friend."

The Supreme eyed her younger student for a long moment, chewing on her bottom lip. Amalia raised a brow and hoped her teacher wasn't going against the plan she promised. Cordelia vowed to shed no blood on Coraline Avery, but when Amalia looked to her Supreme, her stomach churned with worry.

"Well," the Supreme scoffed, turning back to the three standing on the stairs. "We will not be sitting with you anytime soon,  _Michael Langdon_. The only way we would sit at your table is if your  _decapitated head_  were the centerpiece."

Coco's brow knitted as Mallory finally stood beside her, but the two still seemed shocked at this new reality before them. "I should've  _known_ you were the one fucking Langdon this whole time, Coraline," Coco frowned, pointing a finger in the brunette's direction. "I wasn't shocked when Gallant told us the news. I  _always_  knew there was a reason why you didn't belong." She nodded towards her fellow witches. "This is what happens when Jesus hates you. You become evil."

Coraline's hands formed into fists. " _Shut up_ , Coco," she seethed through clenched teeth. "You have  _never_ known me and you never fucking will –"

"Cordelia," Dinah called, moving to stand near the Supreme. "You raised me from the dead so that you would have the power of voodoo on your side. But if you know anything about who I am, you know that the only choice I'd pick –" Dinah slowly began to walk towards Michael on the staircase "– would be  _the winner_."

Coraline tilted her head to the side as Michael took another step forward, just to be closer to her, in case something bad happened. "Dinah is a  _voodoo queen_?" Coraline raised a brow in Michael's direction. "Go figure, I guess."

"You're only  _half right_ , Dinah," Cordelia replied.

More footsteps entered the hall, and in walked a dark-skinned woman with beautiful braids and flowing garments. Beads shook from across her chest, and her red lips were upturned in a vicious grin. The way she strode screamed  _power_  – more powerful than Dinah could ever be.

"She needed the help of a  _powerful_  voodoo queen," the woman spoke proudly, "but that ain't you,  _sis_."

Dinah was frozen in place, unsure how to answer. Both Michael and Coraline shared a look. Leaning her mouth to his ear, she whispered, "I  _think_  they might kill each other before you do."

"To release me from hell, Cordelia promised Papa Legba the  _darkest_  and most  _corrupt_  voodoo queen's soul for mine." The woman continued, inching forward to spit in Dinah's face. "You'll serve him well in  _my place_."

"You're a  _fool_ , Marie Laveau," Dinah scoffed. "You would have done  _no different_  if you were queen."

Marie only chuckled, and within a split second, her entire form dissipated. It then reappeared in thin air, right behind Dinah, with an axe tightly gripped in her hand. Dinah spun quickly, but it was too late. Marie hacked the axe right into Dinah's throat. Blood spat out of Dinah's neck like a fountain. She fell to the ground and screamed out in pain, but the sounds of torture were over within seconds.

"Out with the trash," Marie chuckled. "Give Papa my regards."

Michael waved his hand, a signal for Ms. Mead to act. Coraline's head whipped in the older woman's direction as she popped off her mechanical hand, revealing a machine gun built underneath. The brunette's eyes grew wide and she stepped back with hesitation, but Michael's own arm kept her behind him.

Cordelia muttered a few words under her breath – words Coraline could barely understand, but she knew they couldn't be good. Amalia was looking at her Supreme with suspicion, which suddenly made Coraline very scared.

Ms. Mead began to scream. Coraline's head almost spun around a full one eighty degrees as she witnessed the woman's whole body convulsing. Her arms hung loosely in the arm, her mouth opened in an  _O_  shape. Her eyes were pointed towards the ceiling. It looked like her system was completely shutting down.

Michael reached out to place a hand on her arm. "Ms. Mead?"

And then the blast came.

Ms. Mead exploded into smithereens. Michael and Coraline were sent backward, flying through the air and off the stairs. Various pieces of Ms. Mead landed on the ground in different directions. The floorboards were coated with a sticky, white liquid, probably from the inside of her service board. Her head expelled the white goo, and it rolled right next to Michael.

Coraline thought she blacked out for a mere moment. Everything seemed dark, but then her eyes opened again. Particles of dust flew across her vision. A few screws landed in her lap. She blinked her eyes a few times and rubbed the back of her head. Reaching out to her left, she felt Michael's hand and squeezed it tightly. He was looking at Ms. Mead's severed head, running his other hand down her cheek. Coraline wanted to call out to him, tell him that something could be done –  _anything_. They could figure it out together. But then he looked at her, sitting up and noticing the blood running down her nose, and all the anger he had tried to suppress before came running out.

Michael stood, fury blazing in his stare, as he helped Coraline to her feet. He turned on his heel at the same time the young blonde witch scurried across the floor. She grabbed Ms. Mead's detached arm – specifically, the one with the machine gun. Amalia knew what was going to happen, and she couldn't stop it. She slipped as she tried to get up, screaming, "Madison,  _no_!"

"Sorry about your little toy," Madison huffed, cocking back the gun, " _bitch_."

Coraline's arm snaked around Michael's. At that moment, she thought she saw an angel calling out to her. She knew then that she was going to die.

Madison didn't hesitate on firing her weapon, even as Amalia begged her to stop. Several bullets rang through the air. Coraline's ears popped before one even reached her chest. The first bullet hurt the most, piercing the middle of her stomach. Every other one became less painful than the next. She almost got numb to it as her spine hit the wall behind her. The floor became slippery. It was covered in blood –  _her blood_. She fell to the floor, skull hitting the hardwood.

" _NO_!" Amalia shrieked, trying to push past the witches surrounding her. Cordelia held her arms back. "You promised not to hurt Coraline Avery. You promised  _me_ thatyou wouldn't hurt  _my friend_." Amalia finally yanked her arms away from the Supreme, stomping forward in her heels and whipping her hand across Madison's cheek. "YOU  _BITCH_!"

Through hazy eyes, Coraline turned her head to see Michael laying upright. Blood poured from his chest, mixing with her own on the ground. Her hair was soaked in crimson; her whole body was weak and sticky. Coraline tried her best to inhale, but her breaths were shaky. Michael's right hand laid in a pool of dark red. She tried her best to stretch out her arm, even with the bullet lodged through the skin of her forearm.

The last thing Coraline felt was her fingers brushing over his palm before she died.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But wait!!!! There is still an epilogue!!!!!!!!
> 
> This was???? So sad to write??????? Not only because all we have left is the gODDAMN EPILOGUE, but like omg I don't want my kiddos to be hurt :/// Why in the FUCK am I so attached to the Antichrist and his gf!!! I need help!!!!!
> 
> These are some real Depression Hours™️, but I PROMISE the ending is different!


	34. EPILOGUE

#### ACT II: STRANGERS

##### EPILOGUE

#####  **__________________________**

**THE**  second that Michael opened his eyes, his hand went to his chest. A dark red stain was hardly noticeable on the black fabric of dress shirt, which was torn in odd places. He wasn't laying in a pool of his blood anymore, but he still felt a crimson liquid sticking his hands to the floor. His eyes focused on the scene around him. Red coated the walls. The fire across the room looked like it was ready to rumble out of the hearth. There was no one in sight.

Michael lifted his hand, realizing more blood had poured over to his side. It wasn't his own. Slowly turning his head to the right, Michael felt his stomach cave in at the sight of Coraline laying lifeless beside him, covered in her own blood. He kneeled over her, unsure what to do – unsure what he  _could_ do. Why hadn't she woken up? Their lifelines were bound.

She should've woken up. But she wasn't moving. She was still dead. The several bullet wounds made sure of that. She was  _gone_.

Michael placed his hands on her chest, trying to pump life into her, even though he  _knew_ it wouldn't do anything. "Come on," he muttered under his breath, pushing hard. The only thing it did was stain his palms a darker red. " _Fuck_!" He gave up, grabbing her cold, wet fingertips and holding them close. He could no longer see their electric connection; the threads were dead. A mixture of anger and sadness formed in the hollows of his half-beating heart. Michael searched for answers in his head, but only came up with one.

He took her other hand, lacing the two together in his own large hands. The blood on her stuck their fingers together. It made him recoil away, but it was the only way he could have her closer. Propping her up, Michael put her head on his chest and wound his arms around her torso. He looked down, seeing her ghostly grey eyes staring at him, no life behind them. She was cold as ice. Her skin had been so warm after the bond was made. That was all gone now.

Squeezing their hands together, Michael breathed in and recited, "Bless us, Dark Lord, with the gift of thy False Prophet." He swallowed hard, grip growing tight on her cold hands. "Her soul is undying in the infinite flames. Through the power of Lucifer Eternal, bring back thy False Prophet." Michael exhaled heavily," _Nema_."

His eyes stayed shut. He was too afraid to open them, to check if the chant had worked. For the first time in a while, Michael was scared.

He didn't feel her move in his arms. Michael's face twisted, shutting his eyes tighter. " _Fucking hell_ ," he whispered, voice growing hoarse.

This couldn't be it. This couldn't be the end. He still had to kill the witches, and create a new world with her. He still had so much to do.  _They_ still had so much to do. He didn't want to plead.  _Please, don't make me beg_ , he thought.

He received no reply.

"Bring her back," he murmured. "Please, bring her back."

Footsteps sounded on his right. Michael flashed his eyes open, turning to the side to see one of the blonde witches scrambling to get her footing – the same one who Coraline said she knew. Amalia Beaumont hurried over to where Michael sat with Coraline's corpse, surprised at the way he hid the body from her. Carefully, she brought out a hand, as if she were casting a protection spell, but it was a façade. Michael did the same, ready to snap her neck.

"I don't want to hurt you," Amalia said quickly. "I want to help."

Michael's stare narrowed, yet he still lowered his hand to rest on top of Coraline's again. Amalia swallowed hard and knelt down. Coraline's face was pale, colored a sickly blue. "She's dead," the blonde whispered, causing a snarl to emerge from Michael's throat. She cast him a quick glance. "I'll do something. I can help bring her back."

"She's  _supposed_ to be coming back," Michael seethed, hugging her closer. "Our lifelines are bonded together. I need to ... I need to find the witches. I can't wait around –" He rubbed at the bridge of his nose. A sigh escaped his lips. "I can't leave her until she wakes up. I don't understand what's taking so long."

Amalia tried her best to decipher the situation. She didn't quite understand the bond he was speaking about, but she had enough training to understand that her old friend was connected to the Antichrist in more ways than just romantic. "Maybe ... maybe the bond – or whatever you have – takes longer on her because she's naturally human." She licked her lips. "Let me bring her back quicker."

Michael furrowed his brow. "Why do  _you_ want to help? You're one of  _them_."

"Because Coraline Avery helped me a long time ago," Amalia replied, voice lowering to a whisper. "Now, it's time for me to do the same."

He paused, looking back down at Coraline's eyes. A film was glazing over her irises, sending a shiver down his spine. Michael Langdon wasn't scared of many things. He looked to Ms. Mead's decapitated head, and then Coraline's pale face. He was scared of this.

Amalia tapped on his arm, shocked at the blazing temperature of his skin. " _Go_ ," she ordered, more defiant this time. "Let me do this."

His consciousness was telling him not to leave, but he had no other choice. The more time went by, the less hope he had that Coraline would wake, and he also needed to find the witches. He didn't understand why someone working under Cordelia was going against her, but when he got up and placed Coraline in the blonde's arms, he saw a strong sense of amity in her eyes. She  _really_ wanted to help Coraline, even if it meant defying her Supreme.

Michael took one last look over his shoulder, watching Amalia's hands hover over Coraline's chest, before he began to ascend the stairs. The anger returned to him again, filling every vessel and every vein. The image of Ms. Mead's explosion flashed across his eyes, as well as the memory of watching a multitude of bullets enter Coraline's chest. He followed the scent of sage.

#####  **__________________________**

Coraline didn't know where she was.

The location looked dreamlike as she sat up from the floor beneath her. The cold ground contained odd, cloud-like shapes circling against it. She could only smell sweet scents, like honey and sugar. Coraline turned her head around, searching for a light or a sign of existence. She found neither. The area around her was dim, highlighted by a violet sky.

"Hello?" She called, surprised to hear her voice echo from every corner.

Coraline's brow furrowed as she got to her feet. She spun around, waving her hands in different directions to push away the clouds lingering around her. All she could remember was the pain. Had she come back to life? Was this the Sanctuary?

Slowly, her head went down, and she almost jumped at the sight of the bullet wounds littered across her clothes. The dress she wore wasn't even purple anymore. It was almost all red. Small holes were punctured into her stomach, shoulders, and chest, but she felt no pain. Coraline lowered her hand to one of the wounds and felt no bullet.

A loud screech sounded in front of her. Instantly, Coraline's back straightened. Her eyes went wide when she noticed a pair of golden gates appearing out of the fog. The doors creaked as they scraped open, and the lilac smoke slowly dissipated around her. Coraline wanted to walk backward as the gates slid closer to her, but there was nothing for her to run to. No other location. No other person. She was alone and this golden doorway was moving to crush her.

But then it stopped just a few feet from her. Coraline hugged her arms around her torso, watching the gates open more. Soon enough, a figure emerged from the fog. It was a familiar face, one that caused Coraline to start running at the speed of light.

"Mom," she muttered under her breath, wrapping her arms around Francesca as soon as she was near. Her mother grasped her tightly, trying to ignore the bullet holes lingering across every part of her daughter's dress. "Holy shit," Coraline whispered. She took in her mother's familiar scent, basking in it, as the fog swirled around their feet.

"It's so good to see you again, Cora," Francesca cooed in her ear.

The golden gate wobbled as Coraline leaned away, watching her mother's face light up. Her complexion was still ghostly pale, but that didn't scare Coraline away. Her brow then knitted together, and she looked over her shoulder at the vast distance of nothingness. "Where ..." She turned back to Francesca, ogling her plain, white dress and shiny hair. "Where am I?"

"Technically, you're in Limbo," her mother explained, gesturing to the land around them. "This is where souls go that died in original sin, but haven't been assigned to Hell."

Coraline's almost fell back. Putting her hand on Francesca's shoulder was the only thing keeping her upright. "Original sin," she repeated, rubbing a hand over her mouth. Coraline thought before that she wasn't scared of Hell, but when her own judgment day was right before her eyes, she cowered at the thought of it.

"You participated in a ceremony that connected you to the Antichrist; to Satan and the End Times," Francesca replied, almost dumbfounded. "You partook in original sin. You defied God and became the False Prophet."

Coraline wagged her finger in her mother's face. "No, no, no. I will  _not_ be blamed for this." She shook her head. " _You_  told me that the only way I'd survive was by staying close to Michael."

"I didn't tell you to  _bond_   _yourself_  to the Antichrist!" Her mother hissed. It took her a moment to compose herself once again. "And I certainly didn't think you'd end up here either."

Coraline felt like this was a dream. She just wanted to pinch herself and wake up, but she wasn't stupid enough to fall for that. This was  _real_ : she was dead, standing in Limbo.

Francesca's lips pulled into a smile. "You're lucky that I had God hear your case," she said, squeezing her daughter's arms. "He has agreed to let you into Heaven. You can be with me now. Your soul will be purified of Satan's hold and the Antichrist's affection."

Her mother was gesturing to the gates. Coraline noticed a light emerging from the distance, hiding behind the glow of the golden gates. She swallowed hard, unable to look at her mother as the light became stronger. "That's Heaven?"

Francesca nodded eagerly.

"How could I possibly get into Heaven after doing what I did?" Coraline whispered, voice breaking with concern.

Francesca's smile softened, and she ran a hand up and down her daughter's arm. Goosebumps appeared underneath her touch. "Oh, honey," she soothed, "God  _always_ offers forgiveness to those who need it, even to the False Prophet."

Coraline's stomach dropped. She remembered everything then: meeting Michael after school; sneaking around her mother to get to his house; kissing him for the first time; leaving him at the Winter Ball. Her core imploded at the memory of him arriving at Outpost 3; the way he touched her during the bonding ceremony; when he revealed that he couldn't imagine a new world without her by his side. It was all there, flickering across her eyes. Her life had been connected to Michael Langdon from the very start, even without the bond of the Unholy Trinity.

His voice resonated through her ears:  _The thought of a new world without Coraline Avery seemed crueler than anything I could've done._

Coraline took a step back. Then another. And  _another_. Her mother's lip twisted as Coraline slipped away from her grip. Francesca waved her over again. "Come through the gates with me, Coraline," she said, clutching one golden bar in her hand.

"I ..." Coraline shook her head vigorously. Her whole body shook with nerves. "I can't."

Francesca knitted her brow.

"I'm not ready to die, mom," she whispered.

Suddenly, Coraline felt her throat clog up. She began to choke, scratching at her jugular to let some amount of air in. Nothing – there was  _nothing_. Coraline gagged, eyeing her mother as she continued to trudge backward. Francesca only waited by the gates.

Coraline's irises vanished, glazing over with a pure white. She saw a red thread in front of her again – the same one she saw after the bonding ceremony. The time, it was broken, two ends laying lifeless in an abundance of light. Coraline watched the red string of fate slowly mend itself together, and before she could ask her mother for help, her vision blacked out.

#####  **__________________________**

She woke up gasping for air.

It took several seconds for her eyes to focus on what was in front of her. Coraline clawed at her neck, and when she realized that she could breathe, she heaved in and out, rubbing a hand over her chest. She blinked a few times, trying to concentrate on Amalia Beaumont kneeling in front of her. The blonde nervously knitted her brow together.

Coraline laid a hand on her shoulder and whipped her head from side to side. "Am I –"

"You're alive," Amalia finished. "I helped bring you back quicker."

"But the bond was supposed to –"

Amalia rubbed a spot of crimson off her friend's nose. "I know. But you're back. It's okay, Coraline."

The brunette released a long huff before wrapping her arms around her old friend. Amalia hugged back tightly, squeezing Coraline in her skinny arms. Coraline became very aware then of the dried blood lining her torso, and she wanted nothing more than to change, but there were more important matters to take care of. She took note of the way Amalia still smelled the same, like that purple Victoria's Secret perfume that she told her about in tenth grade.

"Thank you," Coraline whispered, inhaling her familiar scent. "Thank you for helping me. You shouldn't have. You didn't have to."

"But I did," Amalia replied, leaning away. She put out a hand and stood up. "C'mon, let's figure out a plan. I don't have much time left before they find out what I did."

Coraline wanted to ask what she meant, but those thoughts were suddenly interrupted.

The sound of footsteps echoed around every corner of the room. Coraline looked up, and she was surprised to see Michael sprinting down the stairs. His clothes were torn in unusual places, while blood stained different parts of his chiseled features. She wanted to question what was wrong; what was going on, but before she could open her mouth, he was shouting down at her, "Coraline,  _move_!"

She raised a brow, glancing to Amalia for a moment. "What are you –"

And then the bullets rang again.

Coraline pressed herself against the stairs as Amalia turned. One of the blonde witches – specifically, the one who killed Coraline the first time – rushed from the main hallway with Ms. Mead's weapon in her hands. She shot Amalia through the head, screeching, " _TRAITOR_!" Crimson dotted all over Coraline's face as a shriek rose in her throat. Amalia's body fell to the ground instantly, and her skull crushed at the impact of her head connecting with the floor.

The witch then turned her weapon towards Coraline, and before she could kill her for a second time, Michael's hand closed into a fist. At that moment, the witch's head exploded, and blood flowed from her decapitated neck like a water fountain.

Coraline cupped a hand over her mouth as Michael raced down the steps, pulling her close. She couldn't feel him snake his arms around her waist. She was too busy staring at Amalia's bleeding head from over his shoulder. Coraline bit down on her lip hard, almost drawing more blood. "That's ..." Coraline paused, finally focusing on the warmth Michael exuded by pressing her to his soaked chest. "That's not fair. She ... she was  _helping_  me. I've known her since –"

"They were going to kill her once they found out she was helping us," Michael finished, holding the back of her head with his stained hand. "She knew what was going to happen."

"But I –" She choked back a sob, allowing it to fall dead on her lips when she felt his mouth on her temples. His used his free hand to rub the red off her face. Coraline continued to watch the pool of blood grow deeper underneath Amalia's head.

She sacrificed herself for friendship, over her own coven. Coraline still didn't understand her own religious beliefs, but after being so close to Heaven, she hoped, out of all people, that Amalia was allowed into the golden gates. If Coraline was forgiven, even for a short moment, Amalia deserved the same.

She wanted to give her a proper burial. It was what a good friend like her should have, but the air outside was cold and bitter. Nuclear winter raged on forever, and Coraline knew that the second Amalia's corpse entered the outside world, her body would turn to ash. There was no way to preserve her body, but her memory would stay with Coraline forever. Amalia Beaumont wouldn't die in vain.

Coraline leaned back, searching his dark stare. "What happened? Where are the other witches?"

"Dead," he grinned. "They're all gone now. It's just us." Michael cupped her cheeks with both hands. All the desire he tried to suppress was coming out, and he didn't want to stop it. Her skin was warm again and her face flushed. Their temperatures almost matched as the threads wrapped around their bodies once again. He relished in the familiar feeling of them pulling him closer to her chest. "I was so afraid that you weren't going to wake up."

"Me too," Coraline snorted. "I was in  _Limbo_. Committing original sin can be quite a bitch."

His lips curled into a smile.

Coraline pushed his hair to the side, realizing how they both reeked of death. They were the last two humans on earth now. A new generation rested on their hands. She leaned in close, allowing her lips to brush across his own, which smelt like rust and copper. "I promised you that I wasn't going to leave you again," she whispered, caressing his cheek with her thumb. "I could  _never_ leave you."

He pressed a quick kiss to her lips, feeling the short amount of energy flow from his mouth to hers. That sensation would never get old. He then stepped away and held out his hand. With a smile, she took it, permitting him to lead her through the Outpost. She didn't know what his plan was exactly, but in that moment, all she could focus on was trying not to step on the corpses lining the floor. Her foot almost got stuck in the dried blood leaking from Andre's body. It was like walking through a maze.

Coraline quickly realized that he was leading her out of the Outpost. He guided her down the narrow hallway that she entered over a year ago. They walked through the decontamination chamber, grabbing two hazard suits along the way. He directed her through the dimly-lit stone corridor, and all the way to the large entrance of Outpost 3.

They didn't exchange any words, only anxious glances, as they pulled on the gray hazard suits. It was difficult for Coraline to wear it over her large dress, so she opted to ripping off the outfit before finally shoving herself into the suit. He took a step closer to her, zipping up the suit and looking into her grey stare. Coraline raised a snarky brow, and Michael was reminded of how she could make the worst situations interesting.

"So what's the plan?" She asked.

Michael huffed, turning for a moment to look at the large door before them. "What we planned all along."

Coraline wrinkled her nose as she watched him approach the entrance, hand wavering over the console to open it. Michael turned his head in her direction again and held out his free hand. With a soft smile, Coraline took it, and Michael unexpectedly pulled her close, wrapping one arm around her waist. That familiar sneer returned to his lips, and the brightness in his blue eyes reminded her of when they first met.

They were always going to win. Prophecy was inevitable. They were the last mankind had to offer. Two beating hearts shrouded in Satan's darkness. In the end, it was going to be him and her: Michael Langdon and Coraline Avery, the Antichrist and the False Prophet.

"Let's rebuild the world," he whispered, before finally pressing his hand against the console.

With a snap, the door began to open. A new world was ahead.

#### THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it!!! UGH, I don't want to be done with this story. I really don't, but the time has come for it to end, and even though I ended it with an ambiguous happy ending, I'm so not ready to let it go.
> 
> Thank you to each and every one of you for reading and loving this story as much as I did. I really didn't expect to grow so attached to this story, but my ass went full throttle as the Apocalypse season delved more into Michael's past. Not only was I 😍😍😍 ULTIMATE HEART EYES 😍😍😍 for Cody Fern, but my last semester of school was difficult for me mentally, and writing this story was my only outlet to relax. I really attached myself to these characters and I fell in deep. I love my kids to the moon and back, and I thank everyone for deciding to read Coraline and Michael's story 💖
> 
> I really want to thank one of my good friends from Wattpad, @luciangemini, for continuously helping me with this story and for allowing me to include her characters, Amalia, Heather, and Nate. Also I will forever be grateful that she allows me to talk about absolute NONSENSE with her, and I can send her all kinds of Michael and Duncan Shepherd one-shots — NO MATTER HOW WEIRD LMAOOOO — and she just GETS IT. We stan an intellectual!!!!!!
> 
> Again, I'm so sad to end this fic, because I loved writing it with my WHOLE ASS HEART and I just love both Coraline and Michael 💘 Thank you all for your endless support! And remember y'all:
> 
> EVERYBODY'S GOT A HUNGRY HEART!
> 
> (Link to original posting on Wattpad again: https://www.wattpad.com/story/164512423-hungry-heart-michael-langdon)


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